


The Smallest of Details

by kipli, vanillabuzz



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual turned Watson-sexual Sherlock, Drawn out First Time fluff, Dual Points of View, First Time, Fluff, Heterosexual turned Holmes-sexual John, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plot-What-Plot turned First Time fluff, Sappy, Shifting Narrative, Stuck in the cold together trope, Topping John (shown in fic at least), Virgin Sherlock, Wordy romantic discussions both aloud and internal monologues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipli/pseuds/kipli, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillabuzz/pseuds/vanillabuzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always the little things that sway a larger shift in direction. Case in point, a rather mundane broken hired car and one emergency blanket to guard against the cold, which turns out to be the final push John needs into understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smallest of Details

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** Thank you [Mareel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mareel) for once again following us onto yet more fandoms. <3  
>  **Notes:** No but seriously this was supposed to be a Plot-What-Plot piece of fluff perhaps a third of this size. Be warned this is an over 30,000 word PWP/fluff piece that is more or less one bloody scene. (Okay not quite but it's one evening.) _It likely will come off rather roleplay-esc, with both Sherlock and John's inner thoughts present in the fic._ Consider this fair warning if that's not something that works for you as a reader. We took care to flow things easily but it's still dual points of view. We suggest taking a look at the first hundred or so words and see for yourself. This is mutually our first Johnlock fic, and our first fic together in years. This fic is set a handful of weeks after _The Hounds of Baskerville_.  
>  **References** : Their [Volkswagen](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/kipli/1558294/2126/2126_original.jpg) and [Hotel](http://sagahoteloslo.no/en/rooms).

The scene around them would be pretty if it weren't so bloody cold. The short subarctic trees lining the small rural road were covered in a heavy dusting of snow. Yet more fell against the windscreen and coated the disused road. There were no other tire tracks and the snow was so thick as to obscure the traffic markings. Nothing lay before them but merely a white path slicing through the forest. They were in Norway. It was nearly spring but you couldn't tell it. They were still a good few hours drive from Oslo on their return trip from a tiny village with a shopkeep who had a penchant for odd and morbid collectables. It hadn't been quite worth their time but Sherlock had been bored enough for the first inquiries to pique his interest. If only they hadn't had to travel to bloody nowhere to solve the case.

Sherlock fidgeted with his phone. John was still damned astonished that he had reception all the way out here but Sherlock had assured him that, although they appeared to be far removed, they were still within the bounds of civilisation. However, the constant fidgeting was getting on John's nerves, and he half wished the phone did not work. The radio certainly didn't on their hired car. Or more to the point, he had no interest in listening to Norwegian talk radio, which was the only station that came in clear. So it was switched off. At least the road was fairly straight and uninteresting. He had no reason to fear he'd drive them off an embankment in this incessant snow. Yet the relatively simple and safe drive meant that he was bored, and Sherlock was, as usual, quiet company.

They went along the road without a change in direction or speed for kilometres before he felt the acceleration of the car lag. His wandering thoughts focused back onto the car as his mind registered his foot pressing the accelerator but the car continuing to slow. "What the hell?" John nearly had the pedal pressed to the floor and the vehicle refused to respond. He cast a worried look at the petrol but the car was still over three-fourths full. He had topped it off at the village. The car shuddered and stalled. John floored the pedal but the vehicle merely snarled. The engine turned off. He pulled them slightly over to the side of the road, not that it mattered with the utter lack of traffic, as the car's momentum carried them a few more metres until they stopped.

"Great. Just great." He attempted to kick start the car back into life with a twist of the keys and a slam to the accelerator but the car only whined and refused to turn over. It was dead. "Fantastic."

Sherlock didn’t immediately react to the car dying on them. They were still moving and John did love to whine about mundane, little annoyances. It was until the car came to a stop that he spoke. His eyes remained glued to the rather new smart phone in his hands. “Why are we stopping?”

" _Why_..." John dramatically repeated the line in an annoyed huff. "Why are we stopping?" He narrowed his gaze on Sherlock still fiddling away with his bloody phone. Had Sherlock really noticed nothing of the car stalling and dying? John answered sarcastically, "The view was just so _spectacular_ that I had to stop and savour the endless white nothing all around us."

Sherlock merely grunted at the comment and continued on with his phone.

"Oh goddamn you, give me that!" John snatched the mobile out of Sherlock's hands and chucked it onto the back bench of the car. It bounced harmlessly on the cushions and came to a rest in the far corner out of easy reach. "The engine died! Can't you get your nose out of your damned phone long enough to notice?" John sneered the words, the whole trip's little annoyances piling on to his poor mood, and he shouldered open the door to get out and look at the car. Not that he knew how to fix it in the slightest but he needed away from Sherlock. "Why don't you do something useful and ring us some help." He stepped out of the car and slammed the door after himself.

Sherlock blinked as the man snatched the phone from him, tossing it into the back of the car and storming out. He had far more important things to keep himself busy with than the faulty vehicle John had decided to hire for them. That is until he finally noticed the white surrounding them. He had figured they would be closer to the city by now, however the endless white fading into darkness told him otherwise. He tightened his scarf around his neck and pulled his coat closed as he climbed out of the car. The wind blew strongly and snow stuck to his dark curls as he made his way through the steadily falling flakes. “Is it not something we can fix ourselves?” He wondered more to himself than to John as he approached the irritated man. John had the bonnet popped open and he was bent forward examining the engine block. Sherlock didn’t have an extensive knowledge of automobiles, only enough to know how they worked, but certainly not how to fix one. Why should he? The engine appeared as sound as ever. He watched as John fiddled with knobs and parts in irritation, clearly just as at a loss for what was wrong. Sherlock slid his hands into the pockets of his coat, getting cold rather quickly as the two of them stood in the snow.

"I'll be damned if I know," John snapped, still irritated with Sherlock. "Bugger this." He had only come out here to get away from Sherlock but at least the man had deigned to join him in noticing that they were very much stuck. He gave up and dropped the bonnet. It came crashing down with a resounding slam onto the relatively new Volkswagen Tiguan. The sound felt louder in the stillness of the cold and snow. It soothed his nerves a bit to throw the minor fit. He took a deep breath of the bone chilling cold air and the tension in his shoulders eased. He flicked a glance over to Sherlock poised like a statue in the snow. The other man was already collecting snowflakes over his shoulders and tangled in his hair. John's gaze lingered a moment. He cut a handsome figure even in the snowfall. The white flakes were striking against Sherlock's dark hair and pale features. He cleared his throat and pointed for Sherlock to get back into the car as he went round to his own door. "Come on. Back inside. And I thought I told you to ring for help."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the man who was clearly in a foul mood. However he did not hesitate to get back inside, there was no point in standing out in the snow freezing to death. “I would have called had you not tossed the phone aside,” Sherlock huffed as he climbed back into the car, the warmth inside quickly soothing him.

"Alright. Fine. I'm sorry." John climbed onto his seat and leaned back between their bucket seats to stretch for the phone. He had to twist nearly all of his upper body between the seats in order to wrap his fingers around the phone. He ignored a long look cast at him from Sherlock as he straightened upright in his seat. He handed him the phone. "Just please don't type away for the next hour or whatever it takes for them to get here." He folded his arms across his chest and glanced out his driver side window. "It's boring..."

Sherlock watched John a moment and let out a long sigh, looking contrite. “I apologise,” he spoke quietly but firmly. 

John cast a look back at Sherlock with the rare apology. "It's fine. I'm just a bit... touchy today."

Sherlock narrowed his gaze on his friend, surely he could easily figure out what was bothering him. In fact it was unforgivable that he didn’t know it already. He took him in for a moment and yet, today of all days, he couldn’t read him as easily as he had always managed to do. He hesitated for a second, unsure of how to proceed. “Are you now?” 

If he were still in his foul mood, he might have snapped at Sherlock for goading him, since of all people Sherlock should realise when he was in a foul mood, but his annoyance at Sherlock had been soothed by the apology, and the tone in Sherlock's voice was sincere. He moved a hand up to rub at the side of his face as Sherlock continued to finally focus his attention on him. "Ya. Probably the cold weather, I don't know." Though deep down he knew it had little to do with the cold. He knew his inaccurate answer would be transparent to Sherlock but he couldn't come up with a better one. He met the other man's inquisitive gaze. "Look it's only going to get colder with the car dead. I can ring for assistance if you'd rather." He shifted to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket.

Sherlock studied his friend another long moment. It wasn’t the cold weather that had John in a foul mood, he knew that much. He nodded as John offered to ring for assistance himself, and he continued to watch him. He wasn’t dating anyone at the moment, so it couldn’t possibly be the cause of his irritability. As he narrowed the options in his head, Sherlock himself became slightly annoyed at not being able to make an easy deduction, the way he was used to, on the one person who he could always read like a book. He continued to take him in as John fumbled with his phone.

It was easy enough to ring up the car-hire company and explain their situation, as best as John was able to at any rate. He made a guess at how far from the village they'd gone by the odometer. The woman on the other end clicked her tongue at how remote they still were from Oslo but promised to send assistance from the nearest town with a tow rig. John could feel Sherlock's gaze on him as he spoke over the phone but he focused on the conversation, staring down at the useless steering wheel in front of himself. Perhaps he should have allowed Sherlock to continue fiddling with his phone. It was annoying and boring but he didn't have those eagle eyes on him constantly.

He hung up and announced, flicking his gaze back to Sherlock, "Right. So it's at least two hours until the truck finds us. Lets hope neither of us lose any fingers or toes in the meantime." He attempted a smile at what he hoped was a joke. This wasn't exactly life or death, not in this timeframe at the very least, but it wasn't going to be pleasant either. The heat inside the car was already dissipating. Snow was beginning to stick to the bonnet and windscreen. Well at least their body heat would keep the interior a little warm.

Sherlock nodded, acknowledging what John was saying, but the wheels in his head were still turning as he attempted to figure out what was wrong, and why he could not deduce it just from taking a long look at his friend. “Doubtful. We’ll keep ourselves warm in here,” he wrapped his arms around himself, then went quiet for another moment, eyes focused on the snow quickly covering the windscreen. “Is it something I said?” he turned back to John. Yes, he was not giving up until he figured out what was wrong.

John blinked at the question. It took him a moment to realise that Sherlock was continuing their earlier conversation. Wait... Did he just ask an honest question? The tone was even and not sarcastic or pointed. His gaze was searching and calculating but not at all certain of his question. He... He didn't know why John was upset. Well bugger all, John didn't know either, but usually Sherlock knew everything before he managed to piece it together. It wouldn't be surprising at all if Sherlock figured out what was bothering him before he even worked it out. So it was instead surprising that Sherlock didn't have a clue, and further he was worried it had something to do with himself. Much of John's foul temper faded at the worried look on Sherlock's features. John shook his own head, putting Sherlock out of his misery. "No. No Sherlock. I'm not upset with you." He genuinely smiled as relief spread over his friend's face. Sherlock was only ever worried he'd said something wrong with John. He never cared with anyone else. It made John feel special, in a way. The thought warmed his gaze even more. "I was irritated that you were forever on that blasted phone while I was left bored stiff but that was more thanks to me already being a grumpy git."

John reached to one side and lowered his seat back. He shifted round onto all fours and clamber to the back seat, unhinging and pushing back one corner of the bench seat to get at the boot from inside the vehicle. The doctor inside of John was already ticking off the risk factors. It was going to get cold. Quite cold. Even in the car. They had a long wait. It wasn't smart to leave looking for the emergency kit till later when they were truly desperate for it. He could feel Sherlock's gaze on himself as he shimmied back behind the bench to reach into a side compartment in the boot. He pulled out a red waterproof box. "There." He opened it to find a rather posh emergency blanket and other supplies. The blanket was some sort of thick wool with an inner layer of foil and other meshes to keep heat trapped within.

Sherlock relaxed in his seat, glad he was not the cause of John’s poor mood. However he obviously wouldn’t put the issue to rest until he figured out what was bothering John, even if John himself couldn’t explain it. It was more than his annoyance at Sherlock’s newfound love for his smart phone. He shifted in his seat as John made his way to the back of the car, crawling over the back seats to get to the emergency kit. He had it wrong when he had complained to Sherlock a while back, claiming he didn’t look good in a pair of jeans. The pair he was currently wearing fit him like a glove.

Sherlock nodded and shifted in the front seat, moving to join John in the back, sliding onto the back seats one long leg at a time. John set the box with the rest of the emergency supplies up front in driver's side seat and shifted over for Sherlock to settle beside him on the bench. He popped the back into place so the bench was once again whole. He ignored the hammering in his chest as he unfurled the blanket and found it rather small. Did they really only put one single little emergency blanket in a vehicle built for five people? The physician in him knew that it was big enough if they sat close, that it would work even better with their combined body heat, but John the man still flushed and unknowingly chewed on his lower lip. He cast a look at Sherlock. "This is going to get snug..."

He hesitated a moment. He could hand Sherlock the blanket. The thin, lanky man could use the help keeping warm far more than himself. He could do just fine curling up in his current thick parka and waiting out their time. He would likely be fine. Yet the doctor inside of him admonished his overly large sense of masculinity. If Sherlock were freezing to death, he'd strip them both and keep the other man's core body temperature up with his own heat. This was no different. It was survival, even if a less extreme example. It was simply... embarrassing. He pushed aside sorting out _why_ exactly it was embarrassing. Each thought ran transparent over his features in the few moments it took for them to flash through his mind. Sherlock easily followed John's line of thinking as he took in the small emergency blanket. Yet John still hesitated in front of him even _after_ coming to the conclusion that the blanket was necessary.

Sherlock never had a problem being close to John, whether he had to hold the man’s hand or they had to sleep in the same bed for one reason or another, it was never an issue for Sherlock. He could see John’s hesitance every time though, and as he watched him nervously hold the emergency blanket, he knew John was struggling with the idea of having to wrap himself in the same blanket as his friend. “Yes, it’s small,” Sherlock commented even if John had yet to say something about the blanket “but it’s big enough for the two of us.” It wasn’t a big deal, other than hurting John’s masculinity for a couple of hours. He would get over it. As per usual, Sherlock wrote off his reactions.

John released a long breath at Sherlock's words. Right. Well the doctor side of John wouldn't allow himself _not_ to use the blanket, and Sherlock clearly seemed not to mind, yet again, that personal space would be at a premium. Fine. Okay. This would be fine. Utterly fine. Completely fine. He could manage with a few hours cuddling with his flatmate, right?

"Right," he repeated back to himself aloud. He cleared his throat and shifted down the bench to settle beside Sherlock, leaving only a small breadth of space between them. He carefully covered them both in the blanket, posh wool side up and foil side down, and tucked it in underneath his thigh and side. Then he reached over Sherlock, ignoring the way his own heart hammered, and made certain it was properly wrapped around the other man for maximum heat trapped beneath the blanket. If he was going to snuggle, he might as well bloody be as comfortable as one could be like this. He could feel Sherlock's gaze on him as he flushed. He tucked the blanket behind Sherlock's far side and under his thigh, then leaned back upright and looked straight ahead. His heart raced. He chewed on his lower lip again unconsciously. He focused on the view directly ahead of himself. The windscreen was thoroughly covered in snowflakes now. He hadn't really felt the cold of the car yet but he couldn't help but notice the heat of the man beside him. He sat stiffly next to Sherlock, well aware of the fact that the detective had his full attention on him.

Sherlock watched John as he properly wrapped the blanket around both. However, there was something off about the way his friend was acting, again. Something beyond being his usual ex-soldier self, commonly afraid of losing some of his masculinity. He always liked to keep a distance, as if Sherlock being too close to him would shatter his manhood. It was nothing new to Sherlock but he still seemed unusually nervous this time, and for the second time, he couldn’t read his friend as easily as he always did. Sherlock continued to watch him, studying him and cocking an eyebrow at the way John’s cheeks flushed. “If it makes you that uncomfortable,” Sherlock started, knowing for a fact that John was not all that pleased with the turn of events, “I’ve got my coat. I can wait to use the blanket until it becomes a necessity.”

"No," John instantly brushed aside the offer. He could not live with himself if he allowed Sherlock to put himself in danger simply to keep John from feeling uncomfortable. "No I'm... fine." He took a deep breath and released it, willing himself to relax beside Sherlock. The outward breath released in an alarmingly shaky sigh. Damn it all, what the hell was wrong with him? He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bench. He reassured again, still feeling Sherlock's gaze on him. "Everything's fine..." His meek voice was unconvincing even to himself. He kept his eyes closed and willed himself to calm down beside Sherlock. Conversation. They needed a bloody conversation. "So then, what um... what was so engrossing on that mobile of yours earlier?"

Sherlock watched John as he tried to convince him, and himself, that everything was fine. What exactly was wrong he would eventually figure out, likely before John himself did. Whatever it was though it was certainly bothering his friend. His instantly shooting down Sherlock’s suggestion of letting him have the blanket sounded a lot more the John he knew and that was a step in the right direction. The slightly tense moment shifted into a conversation, John wondering what Sherlock was up to before the car broke down. "Oh well a number of things, actually,” Sherlock sighed before listing a string of activities. “Mycroft has some ridiculous request that we go up to Scotland to see about a coup and Lestrade has apparently let London fall to pieces in our absence, which is only to be expected, and then well I got bored and reread your latest string of poetry laced emails to that... barista was it? Honestly John..."

"Well naturally," John began at the comment about London falling apart without Sherlock about, but then his eyes flashed open wide and he blushed bright crimson beside Sherlock at his having been reading - no _rereading_ \- his emails. " _What?!_ " He shot a mortified look at Sherlock. The man was without any sort of personal boundaries whatsoever. "Sherlock! I told you not to read those, they're bloody private! And I don't..." His mind reeled at the idea that Sherlock had been sat there beside him all day reading his old love poetry. Anger and curiosity boiled together and he blurted out, "Why on earth do you find it so fascinating to read them anyway? To have a laugh at me? Oh silly John and his carryings on."

Sherlock studied John as he instantly looked mortified at his reading those emails. The fact they were old and he had read them before didn’t seem to make a difference. He frowned and shook his head at John’s assumption that he was only doing it to laugh at him. Initially, he would have to admit that was the case. As of late, however, it was no longer so. “Why would I do such a thing? I believe that, aside from the bad prose and excessive metaphors, they are rather... romantic.” Of course that was meant to be a compliment. Sherlock wouldn’t really know that much about romance, but he knew a thing or two about poetry, and he enjoyed John's written voice be it in blog or verse.

John's eyes went wider still as Sherlock brushed off that he was merely making fun of the poetry and instead... instead... His brain was rather slow to comprehend the word. Sherlock. Sherlock had been sat beside him reading his poetry because he found it... romantic? Bloody hell. It was difficult enough to imagine Sherlock finding _anything_ romantic, much less his own poetry. His poetry. Sherlock found his poetry romantic. "I... I don't... Wha..." He stammered and shook his head, feeling entirely too close beside Sherlock for this conversation. He turned impossibly more pink, the blush now reaching the tips of his ears. His heart hammered in his chest as he struggled to comprehend Sherlock finding his words romantic. He swallowed hard as he looked up at the nonplussed man beside him. He latched onto the only idea that made any sense. He furrowed his brow and accused, "You're pulling my leg, aren't you? You can't _seriously_ find... find _my_ poetry romantic."

Sherlock watched confused as John attempted to convey an emotion and he couldn’t quite figure out which it was, other than feeling flattered at the comment, of course. He didn’t seem that flattered though, but rather the opposite. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at the accusation. “Why not? Because every woman you’ve dated has not? You’re always attracted to overly dull teachers or baristas, John. What can they possibly know about poetry, or about dating an interesting man,” he shrugged, casually throwing in the last line. John was his friend, his partner and colleague, anyone who hung about with Sherlock ought to be interesting. Quite certainly more interesting than common people and their tiny, barely functional brains. And yet John insisted on dating bland creatures that were never worth even speaking to let alone learning their names. Each one always found John's romanticism stifling anyway and without fail each was gone shortly after the poetry began.

The flattery and praise from Sherlock of all people blossomed into butterflies in John's stomach. The man was being honest. His biting remarks about his usual choice in women were the norm from him but his compliments about John's writing continued still. And then he offhandedly commented on the women not knowing what to do with an interesting man. He... He'd called him interesting. John was feeling hot beneath the emergency blanket, still flushed pink all over, but he kept himself put beside Sherlock. The inkling of an idea nudged at the edge of his thoughts. Yes Sherlock was reading his poetry. Yes Sherlock claimed to find it romantic. Yes Sherlock berated his choice in women. Yes Sherlock felt no one understood him as he did. But that didn't mean... anything. "Well then. Thank you. I suppose. That's quite kind of you to say." He unconsciously chewed on his lower lip again and glanced forward once more at the windscreen covered in snow. "I do have awful taste but well... I can't afford to be overly picky, now can I?" He relaxed against the bench and tossed an almost teasing glance back to Sherlock. "Perhaps I ought to have you pick out my next date."

Sherlock simply watched John as the man thanked him for the comments, then frowned as he assumed he could not be overly picky when it came to women. Surely he could date any woman he wanted, couldn’t he? Sherlock did finally chuckle at the last tease. Picking a woman John was to date did seem like a ludicrous idea. “I’m afraid that is the one thing you wouldn’t benefit from receiving my assistance, my friend.”

"Oh I dunno. You're all tall, dark, and handsome. You'd make an excellent wingman. And one look and you'd know everything I'd ever need to know about her." John relaxed some at the teasing, not noticing his complementing Sherlock's looks in his little narrative. "I'll have to drag you to the pub more often."

Sherlock chuckled at the teasing, lowering his eyelashes at the comment on his looks, which did not go unnoticed. Certainly that was never something he thought about except when he had to charm someone into giving information or doing him a favour. However, it was not something he ever figured John would see in him. He paused a moment, ready to dismiss the idea of finding anyone remotely interesting at the pub. Instead, he bit down on his lower lip in deep thought, turning to John a few seconds later. “You think I’m handsome?” It was an honest and curious question, though deep inside he already knew what he wanted to hear.

John's heart skipped in a delicious sort of way at Sherlock's easy laughter, something that was far too rare from the man. He grinned to himself at the teasing turn in the conversation. He was half ready with a few rebuttals for the likely snap at his seeking women only at the local pub, when Sherlock spoke in a low, honest tone. He was not at all prepared for the question. He cast a startled look up at Sherlock, his embarrassment obvious but moreso the answer was clear on his face as well, before he flushed once more a shade of pink. He cleared his throat and attempted to brush off the comment, as if it meant nothing, "Well, of course. Who wouldn't? What with those cheekbones and dark curls and such."

Sherlock’s eyes shifted as he had to give himself a moment to take in the words. Was that a compliment? He blinked and glanced at John again. “My curls? Is that a trait?” He never paid attention to his hair. His cheekbones he was more aware of, though more as an asset that gave him an air of mystery.

John winced as Sherlock didn't allow him to brush off the compliments, instead taking his further dismissive tease as compliments as well. Which he supposed they were but he hadn't meant to actually describe what made Sherlock handsome. Oh this was going bloody well. He sighed lightly. Nothing for it, he couldn't exactly lie at this point, not with Sherlock. He nodded in what he hoped was a matter-of-fact manner, looking straight ahead, away from Sherlock. "Yes. They have a nice... bounce and colour to them."

It was easy for Sherlock to come to the conclusion that John in fact _liked_ his hair. It wasn’t something he actually had thought about before, John paying attention to such a thing. John paying attention to anything about him other than his brilliant mind. “Why thank you, John,” Sherlock casually expressed his gratitude for the compliments. “You’re not devoid of your own charming features."

John blinked and cocked his head to one side, casting a sideways glance at Sherlock. He was not surprised at his thanking him for the praise, it would be unlike Sherlock _not_ to enjoy a compliment, but his comment in return was a little much. "...not devoid of my own charming features? I suppose you'll be complimenting my glowing personality next. I take it back, you'd be a horrible wingman. Honestly Sherlock you don't have to try and compliment me, particularly if it's that bloody difficult for you."

Sherlock watched John, puzzled as to why the man would take offence in his own comments. “I don’t usually do compliments, I simply point out truthful observations. How is that surprising?” It was all true, but so were his comments on John’s charms. “You’re charming, handsome, and quite witty for such a tiny man. Your eyes often give away your emotions, your smile is honest and rather... endearing.” Sherlock sighed, feeling a bit vulnerable admitting such things to his best friend, even though he never had a problem in speaking the truth.

"Tiny man?" John couldn't help instantly repeating back at Sherlock in an annoyed and mildly hurt protest. Still, Sherlock's words made him flush again as he went on at length. Goddamn well at least he wouldn't have to fear frostbite to his cheeks or ears at this rate. He stared over at Sherlock, mouth hung open a bit, as he worked to process the compliments. It was all the truth. Every word of it, including John's short stature, which he supposed was equally true from Sherlock's point of view with his lanky height. Which meant Sherlock thought him charming and handsome and witty. Sherlock thought him witty. Sherlock. And then his comments on his eyes and smile... His heart skipped in a decidedly different way than usual as Sherlock met his gaping at him. He was one to talk when it came to expressive eyes. John managed to find his voice enough to whisper a genuine, "Thank you. That was all very... very kind of you to say, Sherlock."

John’s blushing cheeks and ears didn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock. It seemed like John had been blushing through most of their talk tonight, but this time there was little doubt that the blushing was a direct result of Sherlock’s compliments. He watched John a moment, the man looking more than a bit surprised by Sherlock’s honest observations. He thanked him for the compliments, yet he meant each one of them. The way his eyes didn’t hold back any of his emotions was proving to be particularly true in the way he was taking Sherlock in at the moment. Sherlock made a brief pause before adding, “I thought you were not looking for a relationship. When we first met, you said you were not looking for something... something such as...” Sherlock wasn’t as confident in his words as he generally was. It almost felt like he had mentally stumbled over something, caught off-guard at the way John looked at him and took his compliments. It sent him a bit off balance. Ever since that one first night at Angelo's restaurant, when John asked for details of his relationship status, he had completely written off John as interested in him in any way. Long months together as friends and flatmates and colleagues had only proven the fact, and Sherlock had concluded that the idea was likely never to cross John's mind again. He'd learned to ignore any lingering looks or possible signs of interest as they always most assuredly led nowhere. He had accepted the fact that things were strictly friends, and he was far too grateful for that fact to push the matter. Now, however, John’s eyes gave away something else and nothing unnerved Sherlock more than his not being sure about his previous deductions.

His mind re-catalogued the last hour of interactions between them and allowed himself the possibility that John's actions and irritability could very well be linked to unrequited and likely fairly subconscious interest. Flushed cheeks. Nervous bites to his lower lip. Dilated pupils in his last glance. He thought back further over their time in Norway. John had taken issue with the young innkeeper with a clear interest in Sherlock. John had rarely been away from his side all weekend. They had bunked in the same room, separate beds, but still without John muttering a single derisive comment on the single room being taken incorrectly by the locals. Indeed John had only been rough and foul tempered when Sherlock's attention had _not_ been on John. He'd been upset when having meals and tea with the innkeeper fluttering about Sherlock. He'd been pleased out in the biting cold examining the village. He'd even huddled close to Sherlock's side against the wind. Then he was displeased when Sherlock sent him away to check out one of the farmer's fields. Not because of the cold. He had happily dealt with the cold at Sherlock's side. No, he was in a foul temper upon returning because he had been away from Sherlock. His eyes widened at the rush of deductions once he allowed himself the possibility.

His spinning thoughts were interrupted as John spoke in a low, slightly breathless tone. "As I recall _you_ were the one who claimed to be married to your work..."

“I _was_ ,” Sherlock declared without hesitation. He indeed was married to his work, before John came along. Before him he would have never stopped deducing and investigating, even when there wasn’t a case to work on. He never would have sat in front of the telly and shouted at the crap programmes. He never would have taken the night off and relaxed, but he did now because John bought them tickets to the cinema. With John, everything was different.

John had spent enough time with Sherlock to see his mind spinning and his wheels turning. He'd figured something out, and John had the unsettling feeling that he'd figured _John_ out. Sherlock's gaze refocused on them in the car instead of lost in thought. John swallowed at the hint of... something in Sherlock's luminous eyes. The butterflies were back in his stomach as Sherlock declared that he _had been_ married to his work. So he no longer felt this way? Why did that unsettle John? Why did that make his heart skip? Why did it matter... matter a lot... John couldn't stop himself wondering, "Changed your mind, have you?"

Earlier tonight, Sherlock couldn’t figure out what was wrong with John. Now, the man was positively transparent. He could easily read him all over again. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth the moment John spoke. Both of them were still pressed together and wrapped warmly in the emergency blanket. “I changed my mind not long after you walked into my life,” he honestly replied, his eyes locked to John’s the entire time. He paused once more, studying John’s expressions again. This time he wasn’t looking to make a deduction, he didn’t want to put into words the many emotions he saw flash over John’s eyes. He was in fact, though not for the first time, _looking_ at the man beside him. “Have you?” He asked as he finally spoke once again.

John's eyes widened and his breathing hitched as Sherlock declared bluntly that he'd shortly thereafter changed his mind about his preferring to be single. The look in Sherlock's eyes told him all he needed to know on _why_ he'd changed his mind. He was blushing all over at Sherlock's intense, nearly overwhelming gaze. His body further betrayed him as he gave a shiver at Sherlock's low question. No. No he was straight. He was not interested... not interested in blokes... He'd told himself this often enough when his gaze had lingered on Sherlock over the last few months. It was meek mental mutterings in the face of Sherlock looking at him as he was right now, all charisma and charm and uniquely _Sherlock_. He struggled to stay as truthful as Sherlock. He swallowed hard and muttered, "Possibly." He swore his heart hammered so hard against his chest that Sherlock was likely to hear it himself. "For one particularly dashing fellow, perhaps."

This was new to Sherlock in every single way. Not only had he never developed such strong feelings for someone, feelings that were always there but now were fully blossoming with John’s reciprocation, but he also never imagined they would become something more than an emotion he would ponder on during those long nights when John didn't make it back home. Emotion was always something he liked to detach himself from, however he couldn’t help the way John’s words made him feel right now. For all of his knowledge, Sherlock found himself not knowing what to do, what to say, or how to act. He swallowed hard and looked away for a moment. How could a man as brilliant as he find himself at a loss for words?

John took in the shy glance aside. He'd never seen Sherlock stunned into silence but it appeared John had managed it by the turn in the conversation. He was reminded just how little experience Sherlock had with any of this, however pulled together and aloof he was normally. John recalled the doubt and fear in Sherlock mere weeks ago with the HOUND case. He wasn't used to blunt emotional contact and they were certainly having a blunt emotional conversation right now. If that case had taught him anything, it was to be more aware of Sherlock's lack of experience with emotions. Right. This was it. If this was happening, if this was to ever happen, it was happening right now. So he had to make a choice and go with it. John took a breath and dove in head first. He shifted to bridge the small bit of personal space left between them, pressing his thigh gently against Sherlock's beneath the blanket. The warmth was glorious. He took a steadying breath and said in a low, sincere tone, watching intently as Sherlock kept his gaze cast shyly aside, "This isn't a lark, Sherlock. I couldn't... Not over... I would never risk what we have together as partners and flatmates and friends over something I didn't take quite seriously. I... I don't know what it is about you. Your intelligence has always sent me swooning. The way your mind works. The sound of your voice. The way you laugh. I cannot help being ridiculously proud of making you laugh, Sherlock. Your eyes are like nothing else. You know I dated that barista simply because her eyes vaguely reminded me of yours..." He pulled himself together, knowing all the moves were now likely up to him to make, and reached underneath the blanket to gingerly cup his fingers over Sherlock's lean hand. "One thing, Sherlock. I need to hear it. I need to hear that this is not an experiment or a game or anything else." His thoughts cast back to Baskerville again and the bloody sugar he'd given him. It still stung a little bit to have been Sherlock's lab rat, even if he'd not been in danger.

The way John pressed to him under the blanket had quite an effect on him as well. He had never been that close to anyone and he was surprised at how good it felt to have John pressed to his side. It didn’t feel like a sensation he'd have to get used to. Instead, it somehow felt more like something he'd missed for a long time now, even if this was truly the first time they sat that pressed together. He slowly turned back to John as the man spoke. He took in every word, the honesty and deep meaning of every single one of them. His cheeks slowly blushed as well at the little admissions and compliments, the reason why John had dated that one barista in the first place making the blush finally reach Sherlock’s ears too. His eyes travelled up to meet John’s gaze. The sensation of John’s fingers resting over his hand made his breath catch in his throat. How could all of those women he dated once simply walk away? He always knew John deserved a lot better than any of those women could ever give to him anyway. He slowly moved his hand, flipping it over to brush his fingers over John’s. He lowered his eyelashes, feeling bad that John still resented the incident with the sugar back in Baskerville. He would also resent John’s wariness, but he knew those fears were not unfounded. He looked up again, finally meeting his friend’s gaze once more, as he brushed his fingers lightly over his palm. “It is not a game,” he spoke honestly, “It is not an experiment. I would never want to hurt the person who matters the most to me, John. I could not bare to lose my best friend.”

He'd never before seen Sherlock blush as he did now, not even when Irene bloody Adler had attempted to seduce him. A possessive rush of emotions swelled in him. He was going to be the only one to ever get Sherlock to do far more than blush for him. The brush of Sherlock's fingers along his own and against his palm was beyond any other caress he'd ever felt in all his years. His breathing hitched and he suppressed a shiver. Then Sherlock met his gaze and answered him honestly. He believed him. Bloody hell, he believed him. They were both interested, both keen to try this. How the hell did they end up here? "I could never wish to lose you, Sherlock," he sighed, already overly dramatic, but the romantic inside of him was bursting to be set free. After all, Sherlock already liked his poetry. "You've been my heart for quite some time." He smoothly threaded their fingers together, squeezing lightly and brushing his thumb in long, slow strokes against the side of Sherlock's hand. It was different to be holding Sherlock's hand but his fingers were long and supple. He'd stared at them often enough when the man was lost in deep meditations or moving them vigorously as he played his violin.

He took in Sherlock's still flushed features as he wondered aloud, "You already know some of this is new territory for me, I've whinged on about it enough, but I'd like to know, how much of this is new for you? _All_ of it?" He couldn't help wanting to sort things out further in his mind as to what was truly going on. It was perhaps too many questions up front but he needed to know. People never hesitated to harass Sherlock over his lack of experience but how much of it was truth?

John’s words in return were exactly what Sherlock needed to hear. He didn’t know it until he heard them, and now he would never get them out of his mind. Their hands together was a very new and enjoyable sensation, but the way John’s fingers threaded with Sherlock’s was something he instantly loved even more so and was sure to repeat over and over again. Holding hands always seemed like an insignificant move, and now it instantly held a far more significant meaning. He could feel John’s pulse and light shivers of his body, the gentle caress of his rougher skin touching his in a much more intimate way than he ever figured this touch could carry. He watched John as he admitted to the many new things he would experience entering this territory. Then, John made the question Sherlock was not at all surprised to hear. He smiled softly, almost shyly. He didn’t mind the question at all. He had never seen it as a weakness or a sign of inferiority as Mycroft would often try to pass it as. “I know the mechanics of it,” he admitted, not completely ignorant on the subject but not experienced either. “I have the knowledge but not the practice. Well, not the practice with a partner. It was never something I ever felt the need or want to try with anyone. I was always more focused on other things.”

Sherlock didn't shy away from the question, not truly, though his little smile and glance as he began to explain himself sent John's heart skipping. It was so unusual to see Sherlock _shy_ about anything and it was quite appealing. He was not surprised at the answer he received. From what little he'd heard of Sherlock's school years and time at uni, he wasn't exactly beloved by his classmates. Of course Sherlock was quite capable of going off and getting a random shag if he'd wanted one, just look at the man, but it's no surprise he felt a partner was a waste of his time and efforts. John couldn't suppress a warm smile at Sherlock, feeling thoroughly... special at being the person to attract Sherlock's interest. He caressed his thumb rather suggestively along Sherlock's thumb, tracing the outside in a long sweeping motion. He took in the man's tremble beside him at the tease. "But you'd _like_ to try things with me? Focus your attentions on me?" He moved his free hand up out from underneath the blanket and kept Sherlock's gaze as he reached to lightly brush back the mess of curls over Sherlock's forehead. He watched the curls spring back over the other man's pale but flushed skin. It didn't matter. He used it as an excuse to brush them back again and gently thread his fingers in those curls. He trembled slightly at the sensation of his short hair gliding through his fingers, each curl springing free. He caressed fingertips smoothly against Sherlock's scalp as he brushed back along the near side of his head, captivated by the sight of Sherlock's dark hair threaded in his fingers. "Oh Sherlock you have no idea how long I've stared at those curls..."

Sherlock paid close attention to the way John’s thumb brushed over his. His hand caressed Sherlock’s in a gentle motion. He couldn’t help but smile at the touch, actually trembling at the new sensation. He didn’t look away from John’s gaze, nodding as he asked for confirmation that Sherlock really wanted to pursue him. Sherlock had never wanted it more with anyone else in his whole life. He paused from responding, studying John as he slid his hand into Sherlock’s hair, running his fingers through his curls. The curls he clearly had always liked so much. His eyes fell closed at the touch, feeling his hair slide through John’s fingers. He opened his eyes again at the words, smiling one of those honest smiles he only reserved for John. “I always have focused my attentions on you, John.” It was no secret that he was the one person who Sherlock cared for the most. Of course this was taking things to an entirely different level, something he never had experienced before, but certainly something he only wanted to have with John. Something he'd wanted but had given up on ever experiencing. “There is no one else who I’d want to experience it all with.”

Oh what a sight he makes. John's heart hammered as he watched Sherlock close his eyes at his caress through his hair. Bloody hell. Why had he balked at this for so long? Then Sherlock's eyes were open again and he truly smiled at him. His words were glorious. John's own eyes flashed with adoration at the man pressed beside him. "Sherlock..." He kept his fingers at the back of the other man's head, twisted gently in his curls. "Oh you had better mean those words." Not that he doubted Sherlock. He merely didn't know how else to convey how much they meant to him. He leaned forward. He felt Sherlock tense shyly at the move but he didn't let it deter him. His hand at the back of his head was enough to keep him in place. John kissed him. It was a light brush of lips and a soothing peck, swiftly followed by another as he closed his own eyes. It was all a slightly surreal dream at this point. He focused on the sensation of Sherlock's lush lips against his own, not pushing for anything more than the continuous innocent pecks, as he allowed Sherlock to relax.

The different tone in which John now called his name was something Sherlock could definitely get used to. He cocked a small grin at John hoping he meant his words, and he certainly did. Wholeheartedly. As their lips met, Sherlock naturally tensed, but he was not about to pull back. He never could have imagined that John’s lips would feel as soft and warm against his as they did. He certainly couldn’t quickly process the electricity such a gentle peck carried, sending shivers through his whole body. He sighed into the kiss, his eyes falling closed, as he let his whole body relax. It was John touching him, John kissing him. As improbable as that had always seemed in his mind, it was happening and he did not want it to end. It was sweet and innocent, yet it carried all the emotions the two of them had tried to ignore for so long. He squeezed John’s hand in his, slowly sliding his free one to cling onto the front of John’s parka.

The immediate shiver from Sherlock was bloody glorious. The sigh that followed was nearly breathtaking. He'd never imagined Sherlock reacting so easily to his touch. He relaxed against him and returned his light pecks. Sherlock was pressed against him. Sherlock was returning his kisses. Sherlock was clinging to the front of his parka. Oh it was almost too much already and they'd only started. It was different. It was fantastic. It should have felt more different kissing a bloke but it was Sherlock. Sherlock. He turned his brain off to keep from overanalysing everything. He let himself simply react. He hummed low in his chest and dropped his mouth open slightly. The sound of their pecks became more wet and salacious within the car's interior. He reassuringly squeezed Sherlock's hand still in his own and sucked gently on Sherlock's lower lip, just enough pressure to tug at it and turn everything from pecks into real kisses. Then he parted his lips further and brushed his tongue along that lower lip.

Sherlock had never kissed anyone before. Just like his virginity, it had nothing to do with innocence and more to do with the fact that interpersonal relationships were never his thing, nor his priority. That is until it came to a certain John Watson. He had never bothered to think about his first kiss, it was something he didn’t have plans to ever see happening, but to now feel his lips pressed to John’s certainly made him glad this was the way he would remember the moment. He felt the man’s warm breath against his lips, and he sucked in a breath of his own when he felt the way John lightly suckled on his lower lip. Christ, he was going to cling to the man and kiss him senseless all night. His own mouth instantly fell open, lips parting to press a wet kiss over John’s. He gave a low hum, releasing the front of John’s parka, and instead slid that arm around John’s waist, pulling him closer.

Every reaction from Sherlock was like Christmas. He'd dreamt once or twice about this moment and woken up worrying and suppressing the idea, but in all his dreams, he'd never once imagined what it would feel like to have Sherlock gasp and reciprocate his every move, to encourage his touch. The low rumbling hum from Sherlock sent John shivering beside him. His mind reeled at the thought of Sherlock giving a full-throated moan. Fuck, what must that sound like? He'd get off in seconds. He blushed at the thought and focused on the fact that Sherlock had moved his hand from the front of John's parka to wrapping around his waist, pulling him tighter against his side. Sherlock was still Sherlock and even in a new situation he was not overly shy, though the fact that he was following John's lead was exceedingly appealing. Sherlock's open mouthed kisses earned a little low whimper from John. He tugged gently at the back of Sherlock's curls and twisted his fingers in the strands of hair. The kisses grew wetter as each of them opened their mouths to taste the other. John tilted his head to one side and pushed things further, dipping his tongue between Sherlock's open mouth at the next kiss and gliding his tongue along the top of Sherlock's lower lip. He hummed happily at the lightly fresh taste of Sherlock's mouth. Had he been popping mints earlier while engrossed in his mobile? John flicked his tongue along to top of Sherlock's lower lip a number of times before teasing his tongue in further, brushing experimentally over Sherlock's tongue as he found it. He brushed around and underneath it, flicking up against the roof of his mouth as well. He showed off a bit as he went for the bits of sensitive skin that Sherlock likely had never had teased before with his lack of experience.

It was quite the kiss. Granted, Sherlock had nothing to compare it with, but that didn’t really matter. It felt wonderful; it sent shivers down his spine. John’s hand in his hair, tugging gently on the curls felt so right, and the low whimper the kiss elicited from John was something he wanted to hear again and again. Sherlock tilted his head to the opposite side that John did, just naturally finding a comfortable position as the kiss deepened even more. He sighed at John’s tongue first brushing over his lip, and then sliding over Sherlock’s own tongue. That first touch felt electrifying, making Sherlock pause for a moment, simply keeping his lips parted as John kept the lead and explored his mouth. Another shiver ran through Sherlock’s body at the flick to the roof of his mouth. Well that felt surprisingly good. He let out a soft moan into the kiss, his hand squeezing John’s once more. The other one twisting in John’s parka again, his arm still wrapped around the other man’s waist.

The shiver from Sherlock nearly did John in but then the man was bloody moaning into the kiss. Right, so teasing against the roof of his mouth was definitely a big check mark for next snogging session. The sounds the other man made were marvellous. Sherlock practically clung to him by the back of his parka, pulling them tightly together, as tightly as they could like this, stuck in the back seat of the car, having to twist to face one another. It was all rather reminiscent of teenagers necking in the back of their parent's car but that wasn't really all that far off. John struggled to keep himself pulled together, even as the kisses grew more and more demanding. He sucked again on Sherlock's lower lip and gave it a light bite. He dropped his own mouth open more and teased his tongue with flicks against Sherlock's, humming low in his chest, attempting to invite the other man to explore in turn.

Sherlock simply let John make every first move, enjoying the touch and paying attention to each flick and swirl of John’s tongue, cataloguing his own reaction to the moves and filing them away for further use. He slid his own tongue around John’s but continued to let him have the lead as the kiss kept going. It slowly grew deeper, Sherlock sighing into the kiss as John teased his mouth and lips, giving his lower one quite a sexy little nip. John’s hum into the kiss had him shivering in the man’s arms once more. As the kiss turned softer again, Sherlock decided to give John’s moves a try himself. He further tightened his arm around his friend’s waist, dropping his mouth open a bit more and devouring John’s lips. He teased his tongue around John’s, giving a gentle flick to the roof of his mouth to see if John liked it as much as he had himself. He hummed into the hungry kiss, the car filling with the wet smacks of their lips as he copied every move John had done on him. The windows were probably going to be fogged up by the time any assistance got to them. Sherlock released John’s hand, sliding it out from under the blanket instead to cup John’s cheek, pulling him impossibly closer as the kiss lingered on and on.

John twisted his fingers in Sherlock's hair, practically swooning as Sherlock took the invitation and the lead. The detective's tongue was just about as nimble at teasing the inside his mouth as he was at rapidly announcing his deductions. John gave a low moan as Sherlock copied his own examples and flicked his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. Holy hell. He trembled against Sherlock as all his blood rushed from his head and down his body to coil in his pants at the move. Sherlock curled his tongue around John's, earning a louder moan into the kiss from the doctor. Christ. Once Sherlock figured this out, which likely would take only one maybe two goes at necking, foreplay, and sex, he was going to be bloody dangerous. John redoubled the kisses, groaning softly into Sherlock's mouth, as he fought to take control again and enjoyed the tussle of their tongues rubbing and teasing over one another.

He slid his hand down out of Sherlock's hair to gently drag his short nails along the back of Sherlock's lean neck. He tilted into Sherlock's hand on his cheek and moved his own other hand up to pull open Sherlock's scarf. He tugged the one end out of the loop and exposed his neck to the cold air. Not that either of them were in any danger of freezing at the moment. They were both positively overheating underneath the emergency blanket. He slid the scarf off and let it fall onto Sherlock's lap. He broke the epic kiss with a ludicrously wet smack of lips and tongues and gave in to the urge to trail wet, sucking kisses along Sherlock's jawline and down the flushed line of his neck. He was panting heavy between kisses, his free hand twisting at the front of Sherlock's oversized coat. The clean, fresh scent of Sherlock was overpowering. He gave a firm bite at the base of his neck, simply to feel Sherlock's shuddering tremble in response. He covered the other man's neck and throat in hungry kisses, only just holding back the ridiculous urge to mark him with a hickey.

John’s reactions to the kiss were staggeringly arousing. For the first time ever, Sherlock truly felt aroused by someone, by his touch and the way he felt pressed to him. The way his lips and tongue tasted and the soft sounds that escaped his throat. Of course this was not just anyone, this was John, and Sherlock was well aware of how crazy the man could drive him. Even before tonight, he knew the way he felt for John would forever be his biggest weakness. The one weakness he was happy to have. The kiss continued for another while, and Sherlock wouldn’t have minded if it had lasted all night. However, John ended the kiss after a moment, their lips giving a remarkable wet smack as they parted. Sherlock gasped, not having time to protest the end of the kiss, as John instantly moved to kiss along his jawline and down to his neck instead. He didn’t feel cold at all without his scarf, John’s touch and kisses warming him up better than the emergency blanket itself. Sherlock bit down on his lower lip and trembled at the touch. His hand cupping John’s cheek slid into his hair instead, running his fingers through the soft, short strands of brown and grey. He gasped at the gentle bite to his throat, followed by sweet kisses along his skin. “ _John,_ ” Sherlock sighed, unable and unwilling to hold back any reaction to what the man was doing to him. John was truly driving him crazy in a way Sherlock had only ever attempted to imagine in his fantasies on those nights when he needed a release.

That sigh, bloody hell that sigh of his name on Sherlock's lips, it was astounding what just his name on Sherlock's lips did to him. He gave a low, slightly desperate moan against Sherlock's neck as the other man slid his fingers into his short cropped hair. Oh damn, this was getting to be too much. He pressed his face against Sherlock's neck and worked to compose himself, even as his lungs filled with the scent of Sherlock. Right. Only just admitted that they both quite fancy one another likely half an hour ago and now he was ready to shag him in the back of a hired car. A broken, freezing rental car. The romantic in him balked at the idea but his body hummed with the electric spark that jumped between them with every touch. " _Sherlock_ ," he gasped dreamily into the man's neck, nuzzling against that patch of bare skin. He took yet more deep, measured breaths. "Love, you will do me in, with all this." John finally managed to pull away from Sherlock's neck and raised his head. He met the other man's equally dreamy gaze. Christ, those bloody eyes of his... all dilated and flashing with not in the least hidden interest. His lips very much bruised and red and plump. His cheeks flushed. His hair a bit more of a mess than usual. John had to pause and take another shaky breath at the sight. "Sherlock. We have to... I don't _want_ to but we have to... Things are escalating quickly and I'd rather not make any more of your _firsts_ take place in the back of a rudding hired car."

John’s gasp of Sherlock’s name drove him crazy. Of all the times John had called his name, this was without a doubt the best. The out of breath gasp against Sherlock’s neck sent more shivers through him. He didn’t want to stop, yet they did, John pulling back enough to meet his gaze. His hair was an adorable mess. Those rosy cheeks and lips, and the want in his eyes that Sherlock felt just as much in return. He softly panted already as he studied John who tried to convince the two of them to slow down. It was adorable, just like John himself always was. He wanted them to stop not for selfish reasons, but because he didn’t want things to just happen there, in the back of the car. Sherlock smiled, both at being called love and the desire in John’s eyes, but also at his wanting to wait. He gave a small grunt and rested his forehead to John’s. Did they really have to wait? “You’re most charming, John Watson,” he sighed, smiling at the lovely man in front of him. He had a point, particularly since they didn’t know for certain when their assistance would arrive. “I don’t want to wait,” he pouted, then let out a long, defeated sigh, “but I think you’re right.”

John positively swooned as Sherlock leaned his forehead to his own, calling him charming. Sherlock's voice was a low, husky rumble in his chest. John spent a moment daydreaming what he would sound like truly wrapped up in the middle of enjoying one another. It didn't particularly help at all with his hopes of calming down. "You're daft if I'm charming whilst telling us to slow down," John teased lightly, returning the smile. He pressed a kiss to the end of Sherlock's nose at his adorable pout. He dropped his own voice to a low and hungry growl, "I don't wish to wait either." Then he pecked Sherlock's lips and brushed soothing fingers through his curls. "But it is for the best. I promise it will be worth the continued wait..." He cocked a smug grin at the man beside him.

Sherlock chuckled at John’s tease. How did it take them so long to get here? For the first time ever, this was something he didn’t have all the answers to, yet he was alright with that. He hummed at John’s kiss to his nose, loving every small, subtle move from the man. He took in those blue eyes, the tone in John’s voice alone sending more shivers down his spine. He sighed, happily returning each peck as John continued to play his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. “I believe that,” he smiled against John’s lips, “the question is, what will we do until then?”

John's smug grin only grew at the shiver from Sherlock but he didn't push for more. They had to calm down and collect themselves, and perhaps wait quite awhile more for help. Hopefully not awfully long... He snorted lightly at Sherlock of course being the one to point out the true nature of their current predicament. Well they were in need of a distraction. "Have you got Angry Birds on that posh new mobile of yours?"

* * *

It was amusing to watch Sherlock steadily grow to loathe the pigs. He'd been confused over the point of the game immediately after downloading it, but then the trickier levels settled in, and John couldn't hide his laughter as Sherlock swore at the derisive snorting snickers from the pigs when he'd failed his first level. John was more than happy to simply watch as Sherlock became thoroughly engrossed in the game. He could read his best friend easily enough. He was hooked. It was little surprise with Sherlock's addictive personality. Sherlock was likely going to be working his way through _all_ the various Angry Bird games from that evening forth. So, there was another horrible addiction John had introduced him to. Again. He was oddly proud at slipping yet more pop culture nonsense into Sherlock's life.

They nearly didn't notice when the tow arrived. It was only when their car lit up from behind from the bright headlamps of the truck that John looked back to see the driver climbing out into the snow. It was nearly impossible to get Sherlock out of their car and into the cab of the truck. He wanted just _one more try_ at the game. Well if only he could best the level then he could have a bit of bloody piece of mind! John finally had to resort to snatching the phone from Sherlock and rushing out of the car toward the truck. Sherlock launched after him in a flash, all snarling indignation for the return of his mobile.

The bloke seeing to the hired car spoke English only with a very thick accent that befuddled John yet somehow Sherlock seemed to understand with ease, even with his attention back on his game within the truck's cab. It was blessedly warm inside the running truck, and not overly long for their car to be hitched to the back of the tow. The two hours into civilisation was more awkward. Sherlock was oblivious for the most part. He sat at the far passenger end of the bench. He curled up to John's side and left no personal space between them, which was fine, since John was sat in the middle of the bench sandwiched between Sherlock and their rescuer. It just seemed rude to ignore their driver, yet whenever John asked him an idle question, the answer was so hard to _hear_ with the accent that John was nearly in a permanent head tilted, slight frown of concentration expression. Every so often Sherlock would repeat what the driver had said so John would understand, or simply carry on the conversation himself half-heartedly, his true attention completely on the game. He couldn't understand John's need to fill the cab with ridiculous small talk but he also couldn't help lending a hand if it was John's inclination. Still, he continued to shout either victorious sneers or vicious swears at the game depending how each level went for him.

They arrived well into the night. It was all the more freezing as the driver pulled them into their car hire company's lot. John squared away the bill on the car and they gathered their luggage before ringing for a taxi. Thankfully their flight wasn't until the next day so they hadn't missed it, at the very least. John cast a look at Sherlock as they settled into the taxi. He rubbed his cold hands together, sighing as Sherlock still battled the mighty pig foes. "Please tell me you'll put that away when we get to the hotel. How much bloody battery life does that thing still have?"

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at John’s question, answering without turning to look at him. “Five percent, which gives me enough time to finish one more level. And of course I’ll put it away,” he added as he registered John’s first comment, making a pause to look up at him. At the slightly annoyed look on John's face, he actually stopped what he was doing to fully glance up at him, cocking a grin at his trying to warm up his hands, “There is something of more importance that I must attend to.” His grin turned into a wide smile, and all it took for him to pocket his phone was the smile John flashed him in return. He reached to take John’s cold hands in his own, both to warm them and to simply hold them. They had declared their interest for each other no more than a couple of hours ago, and Sherlock was already putting everything aside to attend to John instead. But then, he had done that often during the time they had been merely friends.

John melted immediately at the promise from Sherlock and his wide, glorious smile, swiftly followed by his warm hands wrapping around his own. His heart skipped at the contact, and at Sherlock's attention returning fully to John. It was always a marvel to be the centre point of Sherlock's immense gaze. He leaned in the short distance between them and stole a sweet but firm kiss, forgetting about their driver for the moment. "Sorry," he sighed as he stayed tilted close. "The sad sod you've decided to pursue is easily jealous. Even of a mobile phone." He grinned again at Sherlock.

Sherlock simply smiled at John, his eyes closing at the sweet kiss to his lips, then opening again to meet his blue gaze once more. He shook his head as John made mention of his jealousy, an insecurity Sherlock could understand the source of and was already quite aware of. John’s adorable grin as he voiced his insecurities melted him so utterly. Even that jealousy made John the man he was, and Sherlock wouldn’t want anyone else. He never had and he was well aware that he never would. There were so many things he wanted to say, he wanted to reassure him, even if Sherlock wasn’t particularly good at doing so generally. “I’ve decided on the right person then,” he finally spoke, doing his best to not overthink his words and actions, to simply react honestly to John.

John snorted at the reply. "You should wait to make that conclusion after I've picked a fight with half the people in a room for daring to look at you," he teased them both. He shifted his hands still captured within Sherlock's as he felt the taxi come to a stop. He slid one free to shoulder open the door as he threaded fingers with one of Sherlock's hands with his other. He stepped out and into the cold but they soon had themselves and their luggage inside the quiet lobby of the Saga Hotel, which looked more like a building of flats than a hotel, but the interior turned out to be rather posh and slightly too hip for the two of them. Still it was welcoming, and thankfully not so busy as to have given away their reservation for the night. Sherlock surveyed the lobby and it's pieces of pop art strung about as John checked them in. John chewed on his lower lip a moment before asking the young bloke behind the counter, "And was that reservation for two single beds or one double?" Though he knew fully well that he'd tripled checked at the time that it had been two single beds. "Because we'd rather the double."

The bloke didn't bat an eye. "Terribly sorry. I'll correct that now, it'll only take a moment." He was soon handed their key and John declined any help up to their room, instead thanking him for the late check-in and room swap. He ignored the cheeky grin from Sherlock and swiftly led them to the lift.

Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from curling the end of his lips in a smile, amused by John’s insistence for a double bed this time around. It was so very endearing. He picked up one of their suitcases and rang for the lift, reaching for John’s hand once again. He already liked holding it, their fingers threading instantly every time they clasped their hands. They went up a couple of stories, remaining silent inside the lift until the doors opened once again. Sherlock released John’s hand to let him get their room door open, both men walking into the warm and rather posh yet cosy bedroom. He set down the suitcase he was carrying and slid off his large coat. He tossed it over the back of a chair, his scarf soon joining it as they made themselves comfortable. He opened one of their bags, tossing a shy look in John’s direction, as he casually pulled out the cord to charge his mobile. He had to finish every level of that game, the next morning of course.

"So long as it stays on the desk," John commanded good-naturedly, chuckling at the apologetic glance from Sherlock in his direction. He slid off his own parka. It felt good to be properly warm and not left in the dark, yet very much alone together once more. He set his coat over the back of the other chair. The furniture was all posh dark wood, along with the headboard. Velvet cloth covered the cushions on the chairs and the bedding, crisp white sheets peeking from beneath the brown velvet comforter. The far wall behind the bed was a mottled floral patterned wallpaper that wouldn't be out of place in their flat. He fought down the nerves that threatened to blossom in his stomach again. The one bed was still slightly intimidating in the room. He swallowed and toed off his boots, stepping out of each one at a time beside the chair with his parka. He pulled his jumper off and left himself in a simple cotton long-sleeve shirt, jeans, and socks. He cast his gaze at Sherlock as the other man watched him make himself comfortable a few paces away, finished with setting up his mobile and charger. He smiled at the look in his piercing eyes. "You keep looking at me like that, and I'll get to thinking you like what you see."

Sherlock smiled at John and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, watching as he made himself comfortable. He observed John and slowly copied some of the moves, toeing off his own dress shoes and sliding off his jacket, staying in his purple dress shirt. He continued watching the man, smiling wider as he glanced back at him. He blushed at the comment and took a couple of steps closer to him, sliding his hands up to cup John’s face. “I do like what I see,” he whispered to John’s lips, pressing a soft kiss to them. He studied him for another moment before kissing him again, pressing a few more pecks to his lips and then slowly deepening them once more.

Oh those words. John's heart skipped at the cup to his face paired with Sherlock reaffirming that he liked what he saw in him. The taller man stooped to kiss him, first a soft peck, but it quickly shifted into more and deeper kisses. Sherlock was already growing more confident with the snogging that they'd practiced earlier. He was going to be dangerous once he figured out all the steps. John wasn't going to be able to resist the man, and with Sherlock's stamina at not eating or sleeping when focused on something, John had a feeling he was going to end up deliriously exhausted come the next few weeks. Right though. First night. They didn't have to go far with this but well he'd let Sherlock set the pace. Not to mention the _one_ rather new thing about all this for himself. He focused his thoughts on returning Sherlock's kisses, humming low in encouragement as he parted his lips and sucked once more on Sherlock's lower lip. His tongue delved between those lips as they parted. He moved his hand to take Sherlock's free hand and lace their fingers together once more. He kept their kisses going even as he sidestepped toward the bed, taking Sherlock with him. He sat on the edge and gently tugged Sherlock down beside him. His head tilted to one side as he deepened the kiss. His empty hand moved to Sherlock's chest and pushed him to lie back on the bed. For once they could kiss properly face to face without twisting. John settled on his side and half covered Sherlock as he nestled against him with a pleased moan.

It was almost surreal to be once again kissing John. It had felt like a dream back when they were in the car, and it was just as incredible now. Aside from becoming obsessed with the new game on his phone, Sherlock had been rather introspective for the last couple of hours. He came to the realisation that, no matter how out of character it was for him to simply let himself go with the flow, he was going to let things between them happen however they were meant to. He and John were meant for each other, as little experience as he had in any kind of romanticism, he was sure of that much. Nothing had broken them apart, and nothing ever would. He smiled against John’s lips as he got his thoughts in order, and let his best friend, the one person he completely trusted in the world, take the lead once more. He relaxed on the bed as John pulled them down to it. His arms wrapped around him as the kiss lingered on. He sighed, smiling against John’s lips every time he teased at his lower lip, nipping or sucking on it. That was a move he enjoyed quite a lot, and one that would become one of his many favourites, he was certain.

It's a bit ridiculous how easy kissing was and how effortlessly they teased one another with their tongues. Sherlock seemed rather partial to John's penchant for sucking on and lightly biting and teasing his lower lip, if the moans and shivers were anything to go on. He hummed at Sherlock's arms wrapping around him, encouraging his move. He teased his own fingertips up along Sherlock's neck and into his hair. He twisted fingers in the curls. He couldn't help himself. He tugged lightly and broke the kisses with a smacking gasp. " _Sherlock_ ," he panted low, his mouth returning to trace the other man's jaw. This time he kissed his way back and up behind his ear, teasing at the sensitive skin there with a swirl of his tongue, before he wrapped lips around his lower earlobe and sucked. He relished every reaction from the man gently pinned half beneath him. He lightly tugged at the earlobe with his teeth and released it, humming low and breathless into Sherlock's ear, "May I open your shirt, love?" His hand slid from Sherlock's hair to settle once more over his chest.

John’s moans were something Sherlock definitely wished to hear more of, something he wanted to draw from him. Those adorable moans at the intense kissing drove him crazy, his arms tightening around him as the kisses deepened more and more. Wet smacks of their lips and tongues filled the quiet room. Sherlock shivered at John’s fingers teasing along his skin and sliding back into his hair. He really adored the way John played with his hair, his fingers sliding through his curls. It was a simple move but it sent shivers through him. He gasped as the kisses ended, John’s lips going back to where they were a couple of hours ago, before they decided to stop. Sherlock slid one hand into John’s hair as he felt his lips trail kisses up to his ear, teasing there before moving to his earlobe. A deep moan escaped Sherlock at the move, his body trembling at the sweet whisper. John really knew what he was doing, and Sherlock was loving all of it. “Oh darling, of course you can,” Sherlock sighed in response, licking at his bruised lips and opening his eyes to watch John’s movements. He wasn’t going to lie, the fluttering butterflies in his stomach made him realise that he was, in fact, nervous. The kind of nerves that naturally come when entering new territory. However, he also looked forward to each and every one of his firsts with John.

The moans and sighs from Sherlock were beyond imagining. His voice was already husky with interest and the words he sighed back to him sent John's heart hammering. Christ, he'd never liked a pet name more than _darling_ on Sherlock's lips. He could feel Sherlock tense a bit as his hand moved down to his chest but his breathing stayed a mess of panting and heavy gasps. John met his gaze as Sherlock's head turned to face him. Oh those eyes, those bruised lips, those flushed cheeks. All for him. Only for him. John propped himself up on one elbow and ran his hand along the fabric to gently begin unbuttoning Sherlock's dress shirt. The deep royal purple dress shirt. He leaned down to steal wet, open-mouthed kisses as his fingers worked at the buttons. He murmured low and teasing between wet smacks of their lips, "You know this is my very favourite shirt of yours, love." He flicked his tongue along Sherlock's lower lip. "Utterly distracting, how it clings to your chest." He worked his way down to his stomach, then paused to pull the dress shirt gently out from Sherlock's trousers, untucking the ends, before resuming his methodical unbuttoning.

Sherlock chuckled at the tease. Although he was in fact aware that John was not indifferent to this particular shirt, he didn’t know the man actually liked the way it looked on him, he merely figured John thought it was a flattering garment. He would have to use it more often. “Is it now?” Sherlock teased in return, propping himself up on one elbow, watching as John carefully unbuttoned the shirt. He smiled at the sight and slid his hand from around John up to slide back into his hair, spiking it up as he ran his fingers through it. He bit down on his lip, cocking a grin as John slowly finished unbuttoning the shirt.

The gentle teasing tone to Sherlock's voice was bloody lovely. John chewed on his own lower lip as he got the last of Sherlock's buttons undone, just as Sherlock himself spiked John's hair a bit. The sensation of Sherlock's long fingers in his hair was bloody marvellous. He sighed and stole another kiss from the man. He gently pushed the opened shirt apart, brushing rougher fingers against Sherlock's smooth skin. The lean but defined chest was pale and flushed a lovely pink at their activities. John moved back to pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along Sherlock's jaw and down his throat. He gave a small but firm bite to the base of Sherlock's collarbone as he pushed the shirt off over his far shoulder. His hand ran down from Sherlock's shoulder, tracing over muscles and smooth, warm skin. He trailed fingertips along his side, brushing over ribs and down to the hip peeking out from his trousers. His palm pressed flat against Sherlock's stomach and traced up in a slow motion to come to rest over his far pec. He explored and soothed all at once. It was different. John the doctor had touched men before but not like this. Still the flat chest was not so overly different. The lower bits were going to be the - er - large difference, so to speak. But it was Sherlock, and as with all things concerning the detective, he was captivating. John sucked wet kisses along Sherlock's lower neck and near shoulder as he brushed his thumb over Sherlock's far nipple. He teased with a circling motion a long moment before he took the nipple between two fingers and gently tugged.

John took his time and Sherlock appreciated the consideration. He loved each sensation, each new touch and caress. He hummed at the stolen kisses from his lips. His fingers still playing with John’s hair as he watched the doctor get his shirt open. He sighed, his eyes falling closed, as John’s lips moved to his jaw and neck, humming at that sexy bite to his collarbone. His warm hands sent more shivers through him. He let his shirt fall over his shoulder as John pushed it back, then half removed it himself by pulling his propped up arm out of the sleeve, leaving the shirt to bunch up underneath him. He licked his lips, releasing a low moan at the tease to his nipple. Oh yes, that actually felt quite good. He gave John’s hair a light, encouraging tug, though he was certain he would enjoy every single move from him.

First steps with anyone were always a learning process but John kept things slow so Sherlock could feel and come to understand each touch. He knew the brilliant man was allowing everything to wash over himself for once, but he could also sense his cataloguing every movement for later thought and consideration. John idly wondered how much 'storage space' Sherlock would eventually designate for the two of them in that brain of his. He had a ridiculous hope that it would be a rather large file. Sherlock's moan and tug to John's hair was certainly encouraging enough. John's kisses moved further down from Sherlock's shoulder, gently sucking with each kiss. His gaze flicked up to take in Sherlock watching him. He grinned through another kiss as he worked his way straight for his other unattended nipple. He left a wet trail of kisses until he planted one directly over Sherlock's nipple and parted his lip, swirling his tongue as he sucked. At the same time he pinched and rolled the other nipple still in his hand.

Everything that felt good Sherlock wanted to do to John in return, and at this point all of it felt wonderful. He knew though that it had more to do with who was touching him. Emotion, it was always something he could distance himself from, unless John was involved. He smiled down at John as the man glanced up at him. He was full of smiles tonight, all smiles that came naturally every time John looked at him. He shivered as he started pressing soft, wet kisses along his chest. He licked at his lips, his fingers still playing in John’s hair as he moved to his right nipple, still teasing on the other with his fingers. Sherlock gasped at the lips and tongue on the sensitive skin. He obviously was aware that nipples were an erogenous zone, not only for women but also for men, however he was still rather surprised at the pleasure that could come from teasing them.

Sherlock's gasp was gorgeous but his fingers in John's hair were even more so. Oh hell, he wanted to drive Sherlock crazy, wanted to hear the man truly moan, wanted to feel... feel him react and want him in return. John kept his tongue teasing over Sherlock's nipple as he released the other. His hand slid deliberately lower to brush over his stomach. He released the right nipple and kissed his way across Sherlock's chest, gaze taking in his reaction, as his hand slid lower to brush along the hem of Sherlock's trousers. He teased only a moment, then continued resolutely on, cupping over the front. He squeezed at the firming length just beneath the cloth and began to rub with a slow rocking of his hand. He reached Sherlock's other far nipple and sucked it firmly for good measure.

He happily purred at John’s touch as he continued teasing his nipples, shifting to repeat the move with his tongue and lips on the left one, his hand brushing over his stomach as he switched from one nipple to the other. However, Sherlock was not expecting the bold move as John’s hand slid down to cup the front of his trousers. He gave a surprised gasp, unable to stop his hips from rolling against John’s hand. “ _Christ,_ ” he moaned, tugging more firmly on John’s hair and pulling at the bedding with his other hand. Yes, that felt pretty damned fantastic. The tease to his left nipple only added to it, a firm tent growing under his trousers at John’s touch. He gave another roll of his hips, loving the warmth of that gentle hand over his crotch.

John didn't even attempt to hide his grin as Sherlock moaned in surprise. He squeezed a little firmer as Sherlock's hips jerked. It was a bold step but one John himself needed to make. It was different but far from unappealing, particularly as he could _feel_ Sherlock growing harder at his attention. He turned Sherlock on. Not that he'd doubted the fact after all this but it was blatantly obvious with the firming length Sherlock was currently thrusting up into his touch. He released Sherlock's nipple and pressed his forehead to his chest, moaning softly himself, as his own body eagerly responded. He took heavy, panted breaths even as he worked to drive Sherlock onward. The sound of his hand rubbing over the cloth of his trousers was bloody glorious. He palmed up and down, squeezing just to hear Sherlock moan. He finally steadied himself enough to lift his head and prop himself up onto his elbow once more. He bit at his lower lip as he took in the sight. He wanted Sherlock's clothes off. Every last stitch. Oh lord. He bent to kiss Sherlock's lips again, purposefully sucking on his lower lip, as he stilled his strokes over the trousers. He ran his fingers deliberately over the zip and up to the button. He broke the kiss with a wet smack of lips and breathlessly requested, "May I take this off as well, love?"

Sherlock’s toes curled at the way John started rubbing the front of his trousers. He had touched himself now and again, needing a bit of a release and enjoying having a nice orgasm every so often, when he could find the time to stop and see to himself. Feeling John’s hand there was something completely different though. He rubbed and squeezed, getting Sherlock impossibly hard in a matter of seconds. He heard John moan too, immediately realising that this was just as pleasurable to John, who remained settled over him another moment before propping himself up again. Sherlock smiled as their eyes met once more, something he couldn’t stop doing now, and he cupped John’s face in both hands as the man kissed him. He hummed into the wet kiss, giving another roll of his hips as John’s strokes came to a stop. He gasped as their lips parted, and he didn’t hesitate a second to nod at John’s request. “ _God yes,_ ” he breathed against his lips.

The eagerness in Sherlock's voice was yet another turn on, amongst many that John had come to realise over the last few hours. He immediately gave permission to continue disrobing him. John hummed happily against his lips and stole one more hungry, demanding kiss before he shifted back and leaned upright. He took one sweeping look at the dishevelled detective sporting one hell of a tent in his trousers. Fucking glorious. John shucked his own shirt up over his head and tossed it aside, leaving himself bare-chested. He didn't want Sherlock to get to thinking he'd be the only one disrobed tonight. He cast a coy grin at the other man and slid down off the edge of the bed onto his knees. He pulled Sherlock's hips to the edge, the lanky man easy enough to move about. He bent to kiss at his stomach as his fingers worked to get Sherlock's zip undone. He gave a long lick over his bottom right rib and a firm bite as he got the trousers undone. He pulled them down while leaving Sherlock still in his pants. After all he hadn't yet requested permission to take those off. He leaned back to pull the dress slacks off and turned to toss them onto the back of the nearest chair. The simple black pants did bloody little to hide what he was doing to Sherlock. They clung around the firm cock beneath and tented rather deliciously. He cast his gaze up to Sherlock studying him in return. "You look marvellous," John complemented sincerely. Sherlock was lean but he wasn't skin and bones. He was toned and lightly muscled beneath that flushed pale skin. He ran hands along Sherlock's inner thighs and spread them gently. He returned to kissing along his stomach, sucking at his smooth skin and leaving a wet trail behind, as he moved purposefully lower.

Sherlock beamed at John as the man stripped from his own top. He had actually planned to undress him himself, but he didn’t mind the sexy view as John disrobed. That coy little grin had Sherlock smiling all the wider in return. He didn’t take his eyes off him, propping up onto both elbows after John had pulled him lower to the edge of the bed. He continued watching his every move, the way he kissed and teased Sherlock’s stomach as he undid the trousers and tugged them down. He couldn’t remember himself ever being so hard while still dressed, but he was certainly not about to protest. John’s compliment only added more colour to his flushed cheeks, though it wasn’t easy to tell with how pink he was already. John was always the only person to ever compliment anything about Sherlock, and he would always be the one person that mattered. He licked at his lips and bit on his lower one as he watched John press kisses lower down his stomach and moving further south. He could feel those perfect, wet lips move lower along his skin, his cock twitching a couple of times under the tight pants.

The heat radiating from Sherlock was overwhelming. John wanted him. God help him, he wanted him desperately. He could feel Sherlock squirming beneath him and wondered if the man had ever done more than a straight and simple wank. He was going to be bloody fun to tease, later, since anything tonight was not likely to last. They were too keyed up. Still, John recalled one of his own favourite moves, and set about performing it on Sherlock. He continued his journey southward and didn't stop as he hit Sherlock's pants. His hands on Sherlock's thighs slid up to hold his hips still. John pressed open mouthed kisses along the cotton cloth and made directly for the tented outline of Sherlock's cock. He wrapped his mouth around the covered cock, just beneath the head, and sucked through the cloth. He could feel him twitch beneath. John growled low and already possessive. He moved down a bit and repeated the move, leaving a trail of wet spots on Sherlock's pants as he went.

Sherlock chewed on his lower lip in anticipation as he watched John move lower and hold him down by his hips. He only knew why he made that last move the moment John’s warm mouth pressed to his cock, making him roll his hips up to the touch. Even through the fabric the sensation was incredible. Sherlock moaned at the move, reaching down to slide a hand back into John’s hair. “ _Oh my god,_ ” he gasped, the touch driving him mad. He spreads his legs further, his fingers threading in John’s hair and tugging on it once more.

The moan and gasp sent John shivering, the tent in his own jeans almost painful. Sherlock turned him on like nothing else, like no one else, certainly as no other man had ever done. His voice was deep and husky with aching want. How the bloody hell was he the only one to hear Sherlock like this? He moaned against Sherlock's cock through the fabric as the man's fingers twisted in his hair and tugged. The spreading of Sherlock's legs was a hell of an invitation. He reached the base of Sherlock's cock and nuzzled against the balls just beyond. He looked up the length of Sherlock and took in the form of the panting, flushed, and thoroughly aroused detective. Bloody hell. John brushed his cheek up the length of Sherlock's cock as he growled the request, "And may I remove this too, love?" He knowingly licked at his lower lip as he hooked fingers underneath the hem of Sherlock's pants.

The vibration of John’s moan against Sherlock’s cock had him trembling, and the moan itself was one of the sexiest sounds Sherlock had ever witnessed. He didn’t forget that this was John’s first time with a bloke, too. However he truly seemed to be enjoying touching and pleasuring him, teasing and nuzzling to his crotch, slowly moving further down. Sherlock blinked his eyes open, taking in John and his big puppy dog eyes, as he asked if he could remove his last garment. He truly liked his calling him _love_ , but then when hadn’t he liked anything about John? He was already set on pulling down Sherlock’s pants and he smiled down at the doctor, nodding. “Oh yes, darling,” Sherlock sighed at him, sliding his hand out of John’s hair, letting him move and do as he wished.

John chewed on his lower lip a bit as he carefully pulled down the pants over Sherlock's firm cock and round backside to slide it down his thighs. Sherlock's length sprang free and settled on his stomach, rather long as it sat deep red against his pale skin. He wasn't _huge_ but he wasn't small either. Rather proportionately sized for Sherlock's lean height. John flushed bright pink at the sight, unable to tear his gaze away, even as he a little clumsily now pulled off Sherlock's pants completely. He'd never seen another man hard before, and Sherlock was not simply any man. It was rather gorgeous. It curved gently upwards and the head glistened with arousal. Arousal for him. John paused to collect himself as he made to pull off Sherlock's socks as well, removing every last stitch of clothing. What if he was no good at this bit? What if he couldn't manage to tease him right? He swallowed down his nerves and focused on his previous thought, the one that had sent him teasing over the pants. He ought to do what he himself liked done. That should be a start, shouldn't it? Though he wasn't going to be able to do _some_ of it right off. He met Sherlock's keen gaze taking him in. John whispered reassuringly, "You look gorgeous." He reached to rub his palms along Sherlock's inner thighs. "Tell me if you don't like something, Sherlock," he couldn't help requesting, self-conscious about his inexperience in this department, after showing off with the rest. He bent to nuzzle at the base of Sherlock's cock, flicking his tongue out against the overheated skin, and slowly made his way up the length, wetting him down with long, languid licks.

From the very first day they met, Sherlock knew the kind of man John was. Not only his qualities as a doctor, an ex-soldier, and a strong, intelligent man, but also that he was kind and cared for others. He had an empathy toward others that Sherlock lacked most of the time. A charming gentleman and someone who Sherlock had always known deeply cared for him, and it was mutual. If he cared about someone, anyone at all, it was John. His best friend, the one person he could not function without and whom he loved above all. At the moment it was all the more evident through his touch and his glances up at Sherlock. The way he finished undressing him and studied his cock for a moment, adorably complimenting it and even wanting Sherlock to tell him if there was anything he didn’t like. Sherlock smiled down at him and ran his fingers through his hair in a tender move. John’s nervousness was incredibly charming, but all of Sherlock’s thoughts vanished, for the first time ever, and his mind went blank the moment John nuzzled to the base of his cock. The wet and soft sensation of the man’s tongue against his length had him trembling under his touch. “ _Oh John,_ ” he sighed, eyes closed and hands twisting on the bedding and John’s hair as he tried not to instantly climax at the new and wonderful sensation.

John's nerves were soothed nearly immediately by the gasping sigh at merely his tongue on Sherlock's length. Sherlock's cock twitched and his back arched up slightly into the touch. John moaned himself at the firm tug to his hair. So far so good, at least. He licked up along one side and then the other, moving up in a back and forth motion, as he wet down all of Sherlock's length. The sensation against his tongue was completely unique. The velvet skin and coiled heat just beneath were like nothing else. He reached the head and swept his tongue just underneath the cap, following the crease with a gentle brush of his tongue. He moved a hand to hold Sherlock's hip in place and the other to wrap around the base of his cock. He watched the panting, gasping man in front of him as he lifted the cock off his stomach a bit and firmly brushed his tongue over the already slicked head. He could taste the preejaculate and it wasn't unpleasant, not the least of which because it was _Sherlock_. He stroked up the length of him easily with his cock slicked with John's own saliva, and he wrapped his mouth around the head, doing his best to guard his lips over his teeth. He sucked experimentally.

Sherlock couldn’t keep his eyes open through the teasing to his length. John may have had no experience at it but his tongue felt bloody fantastic. He panted and gasped through the treatment, feeling John lick every inch of his hard cock. He had to remind himself that this was new to John too, but it felt so incredible it was something easy to forget about. He gave a firm tug to John’s hair as the man kept on licking, shivering and giving a small whine when John’s tongue got to the head. Then his hand wrapped around the length, a sensation Sherlock thought he was familiar with. Yet having a hand that wasn’t his own but actually John’s hand stroking him was incredibly different. He pressed his lips together, moans still escaping him no matter how much he tried to stop himself from moaning too loudly. However, he just couldn’t hold back the moment John’s lips wrapped around the head. His toes curled and he rolled his hips, only to be stopped by John’s hand over one hip. “ _Oh bloody fucking hell,_ ” he cried, collapsing back on the bed, enjoying every wave of pleasure the move sent through him.

The moans and cries torn from Sherlock's lips were breathtaking. The man had always been more or less composed, perhaps a bit manic when left with nothing to do, but certainly not so openly vocal about anything. John tightened his hold on his hip as he rolled up against him. He moaned himself around Sherlock's cock at the tug to his hair. He could feel how ridiculously hard Sherlock was, and if he was any judge, this wasn't going to take much, which wasn't a surprise, given that Sherlock had never been sucked off before in his life. John hummed as he began to suck in earnest, working his tongue around the head and over the slit as he did so. He stroked firm and steady pulls up Sherlock's cock, feeling the man roll his hips in time with the strokes. He closed his own eyes and attempted to take in more. He didn't get much more, feeling Sherlock slide against his tongue as he managed a mouthful, before he pulled back up to return to the head. How did anyone manage more? He was going to have to do some research, and quite obviously practice _plenty_ , which Sherlock was likely not to complain over. He focused instead on his firm strokes, quickening them, as he sucked and teased around the head.

It was incredibly intense. Sherlock knew he was not going to last much and that it took practice to do so, but he couldn’t imagine how anyone ever managed to last with how wonderful it felt. Not to mention the fact that it was John’s mouth wrapped around his cock. Those lips he had dreamed of for so long were actually sucking him off. He lifted his head and glanced down at John, the sight spectacular, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. “ _Oh, John..._ ” he gasped, closing his eyes and resting his head on the bed again. He twisted the bedding in his hands as he could feel the climax build up fast. “ _John,_ ” he tried to warn, not wanting to do anything John didn’t want as well, always aware how this was John’s first time at this too. “ _Darling, I’m coming..._ ” he warned once more, gasping and moaning and trembling under John’s touch. He tried to hold back one more moment and then he finally had to let go. He let out a long, loud moan as he came, feeling John’s mouth still sucking him off. He jerked his hips and gasped for breath, the pleasure so incredibly intense everything else faded for a moment except for John’s touch to his sensitised cock.

He didn't pull back though John thought it quite adorable that Sherlock still managed to form words enough to warn him. He hummed around the head of his cock as he moaned those particular last three words. He thought about opening his mouth, allowing the seed to spill but fall onto Sherlock's stomach, but he was determined to give Sherlock a proper sucking off and that included dragging out his climax. The ludicrously loud moans from Sherlock as he did so had John grinning, immediately convinced he'd gone the right route. He felt Sherlock's cock twitch and pulse in his hand, his hips jerking beneath John's hold. He pulsed and his seed hit his tongue, then more and more followed. He came hard, if John was any judge. He sucked and teased with his tongue, continuing his strokes through Sherlock's climax. The taste of him was odd but again not unpleasant. In his eagerness to drag on Sherlock's climax, he swallowed the seed as he sucked hard, not truly noticing, focused on drawing yet more impossibly deep moans from Sherlock. He felt the man shudder and his moans turn to slightly panicked whimpers. He'd likely never pushed an orgasm this far before and John finally released the overly sensitised head from his mouth. He panted hard himself, looking up Sherlock's gorgeous body, and slowed his strokes. He pressed one last wet kiss to the head of his cock and stopped his strokes. He kept his cock possessively in his hand, reassuring while simply holding as he went soft. "Oh love, you are such a sight to behold when you come," John purred up at him. He pressed a kiss to his hip and slowly made his way up Sherlock's trembling stomach and chest. He moved back onto the bed beside him and continued with soothing kisses up his shoulder and neck.

As John continued teasing Sherlock’s cock, he could only moan and whimper. He was at John’s mercy, which to be honest wasn’t a horrible thing. At all. It became too intense after a number of moments, and only then did he start squirming under John’s touch. He truly drove him crazy and that was the most intense and pleasurable experience of his life, so far. He let out a long sigh as John released him, shivering still at the kiss to the head of his cock, though it was such a sweet move he couldn’t help but smile. Every kiss to his body made him shiver though, so very sensitised from the whole climax and as John still held his cock. He loved each kiss from the man as he moved up, and he was aching to hold him. As he moved to kiss his chest and up toward his shoulder, Sherlock wrapped both arms around John, pulling him to settle half on top of him again. He slid a hand into his hair, tugging firmly and pulling him for a kiss. God, he had missed those lips. He hummed into the kiss, perceiving the taste on John’s lips and tongue. Only then did he truly realise John had not pulled back when he came, despite his warnings. He could taste himself on him and he purred into the kiss, parting it with a wet smack to meet John’s gaze, running his fingers through his hair. “That really is sexy,” he beamed at him and kissed him again.

John flushed pink at Sherlock instantly commenting on the taste of himself on John's lips. Of course the detective had worked out the meaning of the taste immediately. John hadn't consciously realised he'd swallowed until Sherlock pointed it out, calling the entire thing sexy in his low rumbling afterglow voice. It should have bothered him more that he took to all this so easily, but it wasn't just any man. It was Sherlock, and there was little about the man pressed against him that he did _not_ like, which apparently included enjoying the taste of his semen, enough at least to not even notice he'd swallowed. He moaned low into Sherlock's kisses, adoring the man's long fingers in his own hair, and gave his cock one last stroke before releasing him. He ran his hand up his chest and neck to thread into Sherlock's hair. He'd missed those curls. He ended the kiss with a tug to the strands of hair. "I had to give you a proper full sucking off, love," he purred against Sherlock's lips, running his tongue over his lower lip after he spoke. John grinned as he met Sherlock's gaze. "You seemed to enjoy yourself..."

Sherlock felt that it was actually rather a big deal, not because it was a male fetish to see their partner swallow, but because clearly John had not even noticed. It was the man’s _first time_ with another male, and he truly didn’t notice? It immediately held significance to Sherlock. He gave a small whine at the last stroke from John, humming into the kiss as his fingers slid back up into his hair. He sighed as the kiss ended with a soft smack, opening his eyes to take in John once more. “Oh dear god,” he sighed with a big smile “it was fantastic, darling.” Sherlock purred as he had his lips teased with John’s tongue. “Enjoy myself?” He wondered with a chuckle. “John, that was the best blow job in history, as far as I’m concerned,” he beamed at him, and he meant it completely. He was still a puddle on the bed, and he remained like that for another long moment, playing with John’s hair and stealing kiss after kiss from his lips. He swirled his tongue around John’s, the two of them teasing one another. He gave small nips to his lips and pressed enough pecks to lose count of the number. He tugged on John’s hair firmly with one hand, meeting his gaze, as he slid down his free hand, reaching to gently cup the front of John’s jeans. He smiled against his lips at the hard bulge underneath, giving it a firm squeeze, his eyes fixed on John to see his reaction.

The thoroughly dreamy state of Sherlock's voice had John smiling all the wider. His strokes to his ego with such high praise helped as well. Of course, Sherlock had no one else to compare him to, and instantly hoped Sherlock never would with a possessive flash of emotions, but it was very much gratifying and calming to hear that Sherlock had enjoyed it _so very_ much. "Only too happy to please you, Sherlock," he sighed against his lips as the kisses began once more. The kisses allowed Sherlock to pull himself back together, and soothed the edge off John's own arousal, since hearing and feeling Sherlock climax had been fucking stunning. Still his whole body trembled as Sherlock eventually brushed a hand down his bare chest to cup over the tent in his jeans. He broke the kisses with a startled gasp, hips jerking forward as Sherlock squeezed. John struggled to keep meeting Sherlock's intense and direct gaze. He moaned low, his mouth dropping to hang open, as Sherlock began to rub and stroke through the cloth. He twisted his fingers in Sherlock's hair and rested his forehead to Sherlock's. His own eyes flashed with hunger and want. "Yes," he gasped, breathless. "Oh please, love, take them off."

The look on John’s face was beautiful. The want and passion in his blue eyes had Sherlock’s heart beating fast all over again. The gasp the moment he touched him, the way that spot felt so very hot even through the cloth. It was incredibly sexy. The way John did his best to keep Sherlock’s gaze was so arousing and adorable at once. Sherlock smiled as John pressed their foreheads together, asking him to take off his bottoms. He really didn’t have to ask Sherlock twice, he was more than willing and anxious to do so. He pecked John’s lips once more, giving the front of his jeans a last squeeze, before he slid his arms back around John’s waist, rolling them on the bed to have the man lie on his back this time, Sherlock lying half on top. He then shifted to straddle him, pecking John’s lips a number of times, before moving to kiss his forehead, the end of his nose, and back down this time to his chin. He decided to take his time as well, not to torture him, but to know exactly every single thing his best friend liked. He moved down his jawline, pressing soft and wet kisses along the way, stopping along his neck and sucking firmly on a patch of skin.

John grunted as he was rolled over onto his back but he wasn't about to complain. The immediate sight of Sherlock naked and straddling him was bloody gorgeous. He gawked a moment at the beautiful man bent over him. He was half hoping Sherlock would get his jeans and pants off immediately, as the fabric was stifling and driving him slightly mad, but then the detective was kissing him. The sweet and curious moves were endearing. John took a long and steadying breath. He could last a bit of teasing play on himself, surely, and Sherlock wouldn't be Sherlock without investigating every inch of him. John closed his eyes as Sherlock kissed along his features, humming low and happy at the places he chose to touch. He threaded fingers into Sherlock's curls once more as the man made his way down his jawline, copying John's earlier moves on himself. John moaned as Sherlock found a particularly attractive bit of skin on his neck and sucked. " _Sherlock_ ," he gasped, tugging on the man's hair. He sucked harder and John could feel the firm bite of his teeth against his skin. John shuddered and arched his body up against Sherlock's. The man was a bloody teenager. He was going to leave a mark with the way he was going on.

Oh yes, he loved the way he gasped his name. Sherlock was determined to mark John with a hickey. The man was his, and the way he trembled and arched his body only encouraged Sherlock even more. He sucked firmly on that patch of skin and only once he was convinced he had left a mark did he pull back. He smiled as he spotted the red mark on John’s neck, and only then did he continue moving down, pressing more wet kisses along his body. He already knew he liked having his nipples teased, so even though he took his time kissing John’s chest, he then immediately went to a nipple, wrapping his lips around it and sucking firmly, flicking his tongue over it at the same time before licking his way across John’s chest and repeating the move on the other nipple.

John could feel the heat still radiating from the spot Sherlock had attacked. He was going to have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow if he wanted to avoid questions from Mrs. Hudson once they got home. Still, he grinned to himself, because the possessive streak was bloody adorable in Sherlock. John rolled his head back and twisted fingers in Sherlock's hair as he kissed along his chest and down to his nipples, sucking first one and then the other. " _Fucking hell..._ " He shuddered at the direct, firm but quick stimulation. He took a deep breath and found himself informing Sherlock, "Left one's less sensitive, since the shot to the shoulder." He still trembled at Sherlock's lips over his left nipple but it wasn't quite the same jolt of pleasure as the right.

He teased the left nipple with a firm suckle, and only as John mentioned that it was less sensitive did it all come back to him. John’s old wound. He had been so lost in his own pleasure, and then on giving those same sensations to John, that his mind had actually made him block everything else. He blinked and pulled back, taking John in for a moment before glancing down to his left shoulder. He had seen the scar before, but right now he somehow felt like he should have been paying attention. He of all people. He sighed and leaned back in to press a gentle kiss to the scar, then to John’s cheek, shifting up again to meet his gaze once more. “It doesn’t hurt?” he wondered. He knew it was bound to but certainly not in this situation, there was no reason why it would unless there was some strain put on the shoulder. However he felt compelled to ask.

John let his fingers slide from Sherlock's hair as the other man sat upright. He panted a moment, collecting himself, before he opened his eyes at the kiss to his scar. He shivered more at the tenderness of the move than any sensation from it. The mood in Sherlock had shifted and he almost regretted informing the detective of the difference in his left nipple. He didn't want to worry Sherlock, only to paint a better picture of himself for the man. He blinked at the gentle kiss to his cheek and met those concerned blue-green eyes. He melted at his worry. "No, love." He soothed a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "Just don't pin me to the bed by that shoulder alone and everything should be fine." He grinned as he teased, but it was the truth of it. Little bothered him any more except firm direct pressure to the shoulder. He flashed a more sincere smile, "Don't worry over it, Sherlock. You've long ago soothed away any pain."

Sherlock nodded, relieved to know he wouldn’t hurt him, even if he already knew that. He smiled down at his tease, and then he completely melted, both at John’s smile up at him and his claiming Sherlock had soothed away the pain. He sighed and returned the smile down at him. “Good,” he whispered, so very touched by that comment. He pressed another kiss to John’s cheek before continuing his path, this time pressing gentle kisses over his shoulder before moving back down to tease his left nipple, brushing his lips over it a few times and only after that going back to the teasing. He once again flicked his tongue over it and then sucked firmly, moving back to the right nipple and teasing that one a good amount of time as well. He began to kiss his way down John’s body, sliding off the bed and kneeling on the carpet, between John’s legs. His hands moved to unbutton his jeans, tugging them and his pants down at once, knowing how long John had been waiting for his touch, though he still had in mind to tease him. His cock sprung free and Sherlock bit down on his lip at the sight. He pulled the bottoms off and tossed them aside along with John’s socks. He could finally settle and take in that gorgeous cock, because it was indeed gorgeous. He smiled up at the doctor and then glanced at his cock again, biting down harder on his lip as he moved his hand to wrap around the length. He loved the way it felt in his hand. He had certainly touched his own cock a number of times, but touching John’s was a new and quite wonderful experience. He studied it for a moment, it was the perfect proportion, but then it was John’s cock so it was bound to be perfect in every way. It was thick and just the right length. He could perfectly wrap his fingers around it. He leaned in and gave the head a small, experimental flick of his tongue.

The simple word in return to John's explanation left his heart skipping. The look in Sherlock's eyes... The way he looked at him. It filled John with more butterflies and he released a long, dreamy sigh at Sherlock's kiss to his cheek and his slow, gentle kisses over his shoulder. His fingers thread back into Sherlock's curls and he was soon moaning again as Sherlock returned to teasing both nipples, though he spent more time on the right. John whimpered when he finally moved down his stomach. He opened his eyes and released his hold on Sherlock as the man settled on his knees, swiftly getting the rest of John's clothing off. John hissed at the cool room air against his overheated cock. He hadn't been so hard for so long in ages. It was a relief to be free of the jeans and pants. He propped himself up on his right elbow and watched Sherlock examining his cock. He couldn't stop a little grin as he recognised the look on Sherlock's features as rather close to the one he wore when deducing. Ever the detective. It was a thrill to be on the receiving end of Sherlock's keen attention, and he seemed to like the view. John twisted at the bedding to either side of himself as Sherlock wrapped those long, pale fingers around the base of his cock. " _Oh Christ_ ," he cried out, his breathing hitching into rough panting, as Sherlock flicked his tongue delicately over the head. His hips bucked forward toward those perfect, bruised lips.

John wasn’t going to last long. The precum glistening over the head of his cock gave that away, and the fact that he had been hard for so long, of course. However the way he trembled and gasped as Sherlock wrapped his hand around his cock made it all the more obvious. That was alright, they had all night. They had many nights. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at John’s cry, gently flicking his tongue over the head again. He tried to identify everything about John’s precum and the way it tasted. Surprisingly, it was not bad at all. Not that he thought it would be awful, but considering it’s a bodily fluid he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Certainly he had tasted his own while researching, but John’s was going to taste differently. So far, so very good. He continued smiling at the lovely experience and then took it a step further, giving a long lick to the length, from the base all the way up to the head, teasing his tongue around it and repeating the move a few more times before he decided to go ahead and wrap his lips around the head. He could study John’s cock forever, but it would be a bit of a torture for John at this point.

John's head rolled back as Sherlock took to licking up his entire length like a lolly. He groaned and twisted all the harder at the bedding. It was delicious torture, and he had no doubt that Sherlock would one evening spend considerable time experimenting with various ways to drive John mad, but blissfully tonight he gave him some mercy. He only teased for a few long delicious moments before he returned to the head of his cock. John fell back onto the bed and reached to thread the fingers of one hand into Sherlock's curls as he wrapped his mouth around the head. The hand was a not so subconscious move to keep Sherlock's mouth wrapped around his cock. He was so hard, it wouldn't take much, not much at all. " _Yes oh yes please Sher... Sherlock... please..._ "

He loved John’s hand in his hair like that, but he also took the hint as he could feel John keeping him in place. John begged for released and he had to admit, hearing him moaning and gasping and begging for Sherlock’s touch was arousing beyond imagining. He smiled around John’s cock and sucked firmly for a moment before he started bobbing his head, not taking much in but trying to move some. He would have to practice this quite often, until he could become an expert. An expert for John, because he had no interest in doing this or anything else with any other person. He started stroking the rest of his length, moving his hand and bobbing his head at the same time, humming around his cock and not stopping, letting John get his release.

It didn't take much. Sherlock was already immediately better at bobbing his head along the uppermost bit of his cock than John had been at sucking him off. Hell, he was already better at this than most of John's previous partners. The bobbing, the humming, the stroking, the eager push for him to climax. Sherlock focused on the task and dedicated the whole of his attention to it. The light smacking sound alone of Sherlock's mouth and hand on him was enough to set him off. John lasted roughly half a minute. He was instantly a moaning mess, shouting to any neighbours they might have on this floor of the hotel, and not bloody caring in the slightest if he was heard. He tugged on Sherlock's hair with a firm grunt, the only warning he could muster, but Sherlock made no move to pull away. He continued his assault. John arched up off the bed and cried out as he finally, blissfully came. He shuddered and pulsed against Sherlock's tongue. It was all nearly too much. His vision blurred as the climax washed over him, groaning Sherlock's name in a long, drawn out praise.

Sherlock smiled around John’s cock at the man’s moans and cries. The way he firmly tugged on his hair, trembling under his touch as he kept bobbing on his cock. He heard John’s warning but didn’t pull back. He was looking forward to this, he wanted him to come and he wanted to taste him. His cry was so incredibly arousing. The pulsing against his tongue as the warm, creamy seed covered it was something he never imagined he would actually experience. He kept on bobbing and stroking, squeezing John’s cock firmly to get every last drop. He let him out of his mouth for a second, still stroking his now slicked cock while he tasted the semen. It was very different from his own, a lot better actually. He hummed as he swallowed it and returned to suck on the head of John’s cock some more, teasing him another moment, slowing down on his touch but not pulling back.

Deep down John wasn't surprised at Sherlock's keeping his lips firmly wrapped around him as he came. The detective would never pass up a new experience, at least not when it came to this. Yet it was still bloody adorable that he hummed and sucked, happily taking his seed into his mouth. John moaned as Sherlock released the head of his cock, hearing the other man humming in a low pleased tone. Was he... was he humming at the taste of him? John shuddered at the realisation. " _Oh Sherlock,_ " he whined, as the man returned to sucking the overly sensitised head. He trembled beneath him, twisting fingers firmly in Sherlock's curls. His hips bucked and he attempted to pull himself back, away from the prolonged attention.

Sherlock smiled around the head of John’s cock at the man’s whine. He could continue teasing him just to see how much more pleasure he could give him. However John tugged firmly on his hair and he had to give in, melting at the way he tried to pull away from his touch. He let him out with a pop and hummed still at the taste, sucking on his lips and pressing a sweet kiss to the head of John’s cock. He released it and slowly made his way back up over John, taking a moment to press kisses all over his stomach, skipping all the way up to kiss the scar over his shoulder and then resting half on top of him again. He beamed at John, adoring those bright pink cheeks and pecking his lips, letting the kiss deepened as he came down.

John gasped appreciatively as Sherlock released him once more and let him come blessedly down from his climax. " _Oh love..._ " he gasped as he felt Sherlock kiss his way up beside him once more. He turned into mush. His heart and body melted at the gentle, soothing kisses from Sherlock. He was contented, melted happiness as Sherlock nestled to his side and stole kisses from his lips. He could taste himself on Sherlock. The flavour had never tasted so bloody good in all his life. He sucked on Sherlock's lower lip. It was long moments before he finally opened his eyes once more and took in the dishevelled man beside him, ending the kisses with a wet smack. Sherlock. Sherlock pressed naked against his side. Sherlock all flushed and bruised lips. Sherlock taking him in with the full measure of his attention, his blue-green eyes flashing with still more want and curiosity and desire. "Oh you make such a sight, Sherlock." He released a drawn out, adoring sigh at the man beside him.

Sherlock cocked a proud little grin at John’s gasps, his eyes falling closed as the man pulled him for a deep kiss. He hummed against John’s lips, letting the kisses grow deeper and wet, sweet smacks of their lips filling the hotel room as the kisses lingered on. He really could kiss John for the longest periods of time. He never would have enough of those lips now that he was allowed to taste them. He purred at John’s suckle to his lower lip, smiling wide as the kiss ended and meeting his gaze. Sherlock blushed at John’s words, sliding a hand down to rub along John’s far side, teasing his fingers over the skin. “It can’t possibly top the sight of you right now, my dear John.”

The smiles on Sherlock right now were like nothing John had ever seen grace the man's features. He resolved to get Sherlock smiling like a giddy teenager more often. He reached a hand up to brush back Sherlock's messy curls and shivered at Sherlock's own fingers gliding along his far side. Oh those long, teasing fingers of his... Then his heart skipped and it was his turn to blush as Sherlock responded in kind to his own adoring words. His dear John. His John. How the bloody hell was he apparently the only one to have ever caught Sherlock's attention? Then again, he could ask himself the same question, since Sherlock was the only man to grab his own attention. They were simply... intertwined, it would seem. The romantic in John was already dying to go on about their two paths crossing so uniquely, so profoundly. His eyes reflected his thoughts, which would have been obvious to anyone much less Sherlock Holmes, but he still whispered tenderly, if stumbling over his words a bit, "Sherlock, I need you to know. This... _This_ right here, it isn't only for tonight. This is quite... serious. You and me. Only you and me. Exclusively. I don't want anyone else. I don't need anyone else. Although I may blush horribly as each person we know figures us out..." He blushed simply at the idea of Lestrade and Donovan snickering at the two of them. Mrs. Hudson was likely to know immediately and she would probably throw them a party to celebrate. He refocused on Sherlock in front of him, the man currently a mix of innocence and his usual keen air. "What I mean to say is... I'm crazy about you, Sherlock, and don't you _ever_ worry it's otherwise."

Sherlock never imagined something like this would ever blossom between him and John. A romance, one of the things he had never found an interest in before in his whole life. The simple thought of a romance with John made him smile, even before tonight. It was something he had decided was destined to never happen. Yet here they were, and he knew it was real and honest and mutual. He watched John as he did his best to explain what this meant to him, and Sherlock knew before he managed to find his words. He smiled down at him, letting him talk, his heart beating intensely at John’s admission of his feelings for him. John was an honest man, he would never make up anything of the sort, and even if he did Sherlock would be able to see through the lie. This was completely honest and Sherlock was certain of that fact. Then, John’s next words really hit him at an emotional level he could almost forgot he had sometimes. Somehow he knew those words, but hearing John say them meant more than he could ever express. “You and me?” Sherlock sighed, still smiling down at his best friend, his cheeks bright pink and his heart beating faster than ever. “That’s all I want, John. You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he sighed, the words coming easily, no matter how out of character they were for him. “Who cares what others will think, I’m just as crazy about you.” He leaned in and pecked John’s lips, parting the soft kiss to whisper, “I’m yours, John.”

Sherlock's own eyes flashed with emotions easily read by John as he took in the man above him. It was a bit stunning to see Sherlock looking at _him_ as he was right now. It sent John's heart skipping in the most delicious of ways. Then he spoke and John was lost to the man. His low rumbling voice soothing those words to him. It truly didn't matter what anyone thought of the two of them, what the papers were likely to say, how anyone reacted to them, because he was Sherlock's, and Sherlock was his, and not a damn thing more mattered. "Oh love..." He kissed him. He poured into the kiss everything said and unsaid. He rolled them onto their sides and he didn't break the kiss as he urged Sherlock up the bed with him to lie on it properly together, without their legs dangling off the end. His arms wrapped around Sherlock and he pulled him tight against himself. His. Sherlock was _his_. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side, teasing his tongue over Sherlock's, as the kisses deepened. He rolled his hips forward against Sherlock as he felt himself slowly begin to come around once more. There was _never_ such a thing as enough of Sherlock.

Sherlock lost himself in John’s deep blue eyes, smiling against his lips as he kissed him. Nothing and no one really mattered, except for each other. John had always completely mattered to Sherlock more than anything and anyone else in the world, and that was never going to change. It was only going to become stronger. He sighed into the kiss, pushing himself up on the bed with John, the two of them lying more comfortably, on their sides and facing each other, resting their heads on the same fluffy pillow as the kiss deepened once more. His arms wrapped back around John, his head tilting to the opposite side to kiss him so very deeply, not getting enough of the man now that he had him. Now that they truly had each other, finally. He felt John growing firm again as he thrust his hips to Sherlock, and he couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips even as they kissed. Well, it’s not like he had in mind to let them sleep tonight.

John's mind drifted as the kisses lingered on and his arousal returned. He wanted Sherlock. In every last way, he wanted the man pressed against him, and he knew there were plenty of nights ahead of them to try out everything together, but his thoughts drifted to half remembered dreams of Sherlock pinned beneath him. He brushed fingertips of one hand down along Sherlock's spine, making a slow but direct route down, and cupped a hand around one glorious bum cheek. He squeezed as he suckled on Sherlock's lower lip. Only to have the doctor in him leap forward with his thoughts and desires. Shit. He broke the kiss with an awkward, rushed smack of their lips, leaving Sherlock in the lurch. He cast his gaze about the hotel room, as if the supplies he was looking for would be sat out in a little bloody gift basket, but then he spotted the mini fridge. "Oh please God above, be fully stocked." He noticed Sherlock taking him in with a mildly concerned and slightly adorably annoyed look at being interrupted. "Just let me check, before I set myself up for disappoint, or end up rushing out to the bloody corner store in the snow." He slid away from Sherlock and off the bed in one smooth motion. He flashed his bare bum at Sherlock. He quickly knelt down beside the small desk and unhinged the mini fridge. He ignored the miniscule bottles of liquor and overpriced sweets and crisps. He spotted a plastic compartment at the top corner and pulled the drawer open. "Thank you, Norway," he gasped in relief as he spotted the personal care items, which included a small box of condoms and a tiny bottle of lubricant. He snatched both and slammed the fridge shut, nearly tripping over his feet in his rush to get back to the bed and Sherlock.

Sherlock discovered he was not fond of having to suddenly stop kissing John. He came to the realisation as John leapt away from him. The man looked so stressed though that he couldn’t completely be annoyed at him, but he certainly was confused. He narrowed his eyes on John as he watched him slide off the bed and walk to the mini fridge. He used the moment to appreciate John’s backside, the one part of his anatomy that Sherlock had still been unable to examine. He cocked an eyebrow as John dug through the compartment, his brain quickly deducing what the man was looking for, before he spotted the supplies in John’s hand. He smiled wide at him as he rushed back to the bed, stumbling with his own feet but looking proud and victorious with his find.

John worried a moment he'd come back to find an annoyed or overly shy Sherlock at the move. Both seemed possible what with the rush away from him to go digging in their mini fridge. He wasn't prepared for the big, adorable smile on Sherlock's features. He actually looked... pleased. John flushed as he settled back beside him. The smile sent butterflies fluttering in John. He waved the condoms and lubricant a little clumsily at Sherlock, though of course the man had clearly already spotted them. He rolled onto his back to set them aside on the unoccupied pillow, as he half apologised, "Sorry, Doctor in me thinking ahead. We don't have to... I mean..." He looked to Sherlock as he stayed lying on his back. "If you'd _like_ to..." His eyes flashed as they gave away his own interest and he rushed on, "but it's no pressure to do anything, love. I want to go at your pace."

He completely knew what the doctor was up to, but the cute and coy look on his face when their eyes met once more was beyond adorable. Even more so, the way he settled back in bed with the supplies, wondering if Sherlock would like to do more than what they had already done. Not without reassuring him that they didn’t have to. Sherlock just couldn’t stop smiling at John as he spoke. How exactly did he not have a girlfriend? Not that he wanted him to, and certainly not now. Not ever. Not anymore. However he knew they were all fools for not seeing the man they had in front of them. Sherlock leaned in and kissed John’s lips, pressing a number of wet, gentle kisses, before pulling back and meeting his gaze again. “I would _love_ to, John,” he reassured him, “if you’re patient with me.”

Sherlock only seemed to smile wider at him as John stuttered and fluttered about nervously. John calmed down a bit as the man stole kisses from him, soothing his anxiety that he would come off as pushy or demanding. He desperately wanted to be neither thing with Sherlock. He relaxed and returned the kisses, humming softly as they ended. He met Sherlock's arresting eyes and his heart skipped at the offer. He nodded instantly at the amendment of being patient. "Of course. I'd never wish to hurt you, Sherlock." Then he flushed a bit more pink at his presumption and he couldn't help clarifying, "If you, um, if you're offering to... be the one needing stretching out, that is. Not that..." Oh Christ, now he was being all the more awkward, and yet Sherlock was only smiling wider at him. "I mean I'm up for trying anything."

The way John blushed and started acting even more nervous was so incredibly endearing, though Sherlock wanted the man to be relaxed too. He pressed his lips to John’s again in a deeper kiss this time, both to quiet and soothe him. He let the kiss linger for a small moment and parted it with a wet smack, meeting John’s gaze again. “You’re truly adorable when you get so anxious,” Sherlock chuckled against his lips. “I don’t mind either way, it is all new to me no matter what I choose, but I wouldn’t oppose to be on the receiving end of things.” He brushed his nose to John’s, letting him relax more. He was too tense as it was, it would be better this way, and Sherlock really didn’t mind. In fact he was pretty interested in being the bottom, tonight or any other, unless John would like to switch at some point.

The deeper kiss did wonders for John's anxiety. He sighed into it as Sherlock kissed him soundly. His nerves were partly to do with the newness of the endeavour, and so having no idea how to speak bluntly on who would be doing what exactly, but it also stemmed from his previous girlfriends and their tendency to string him along. He didn't often get to this point in a relationship, and of those who had stuck it out with him, many of the women had then found one reason or another to make him wait further. Previous experience taught him that saying something wrong at this particular point would lead to him kicked out of bed. Sherlock's next reassuring words were precisely what he needed to hear. Even the tease that he was adorable all anxious allowed John to chuckle a bit at himself. The tension fell away as he met Sherlock's eyes while he clarified his offer. "Good," he sighed. "Very good." He smiled at the brush of their noses and leaned up to capture Sherlock's mouth in another deep kiss, immediately parting his lips and teasing his tongue against Sherlock's. He rolled himself onto his side once more and wrapped arms around Sherlock, pressing close as he had been before rushing off to look in the fridge. The kisses lingered on with wet smacks and low hums. He let the mood shift and his own body relax back into recalling where they had been headed moments ago. He rolled his hips forward against Sherlock once more and let his hand drift back down to cup Sherlock's bum cheek in a firm hold.

He could feel John completely relax as the kisses lingered. He smiled at that, happy to know he was helping somehow. John’s smile up at Sherlock melted him completely. Seeing him relaxed and smiling, not a big anxious mess, was good. Sherlock’s eyes fell closed and he smiled all the more as John kissed him, rolling them onto their sides. He hummed into the kisses, it was hard to believe he had only learned how to kiss merely hours ago. He wrapped his arms around John’s neck, sliding a hand into his hair as he clung to him, giving a soft moan as he felt John’s hand slide down south, cupping a single bum cheek. He actually liked the attention to his arse. He copied John’s move by rolling his hips, rubbing his own firming cock against him.

John hummed appreciatively into the kiss at Sherlock's fingers in his hair. Christ, the little moans and sighs from Sherlock beside him were bloody fantastic, and very much encouraging, as he moaned at the simple squeeze to his bum cheek. John sucked on his lower lip and thrust forward, grinding against Sherlock as the both of them firmed fully again. Sherlock wanted him. Sherlock wanted to bottom for him. Oh lord, give him strength to go as slowly as was going to be needed for this. He curled his tongue around Sherlock's and sucked, while at the same time brushing his middle finger between those two glorious bum cheeks. He teased gently along the soft skin between until he brushed over puckered skin. He focused there and rubbed slowly but firmly in a tease.

He could kiss John non-stop and never get enough of it. It was such an intimate touch and he was already becoming addicted to it. Every single thing about tonight was perfect and far more wonderful than he ever could have imagined. He happily purred as the two of them rolled their hips together and John’s hand on his bum slowly teased a finger between his arse cheeks, going lower until his finger rubbed to that small hole, sending shivers through Sherlock. He parted the kiss with a gasp at the touch but didn’t pull back, kissing John once again, not wanting to stop. He let John take the lead. Even if this was also new for John, he had more experience overall.

That little gasp was fucking incredible. John grinned wide into the kiss as it resumed. He'd made Sherlock break their kiss simply to gasp at his touch. Fuck. He suckled harder on Sherlock's tongue as his confidence grew. The man was sensitive back there, which was he supposed a good sign. John knew the mechanics well enough of a prostate exam and this was likely to be not too far off. He continued to gently rub against that patch of skin, rocking up and down, pushing firmly but not enough to force an entrance. He teased a long few moments before he broke the kiss with a loud smack of their lips. He kissed and nipped his way along Sherlock's jaw. He breathed into Sherlock's ear, "Stretching would be easier on your stomach, love, but I could manage if you'd rather face me." He pressed an adoring kiss behind his ear.

Sherlock loved the sensation as John continued to rub against that skin. He was rather nervous himself even if he didn’t show it as much, however John’s touch helped him relax even though he would most likely still tense a bit through it. But he knew he was in the best hands and he really would not do this with anyone else. He sighed and licked at his lips as John parted the kiss, shivering at the kisses he trailed along his neck, and that sexy whisper into his ear. It was simply a suggestion but Sherlock was going to take it. He smiled at John and nodded. Much as he wanted to look at him he figured they should do it in whatever way John thought would work best for them. Sherlock sighed happily and turned his head to press a kiss to John’s neck in return before shifting to settle on his stomach.

John sighed at the kiss to his neck and watched Sherlock settle on his stomach beside him, his own hand still planted over Sherlock's bum to press that finger between his cheeks. Oh what a long, lean sight he made. His muscles bunched slightly as Sherlock folded his arms and rested his head atop them. His back was all smooth, pale skin that dipped down to the small of his back before sweeping up into his round backside. He never could have imagined a man turning him on as much as Sherlock did spread before him. If only he could simply mount that glorious arse... "Oh Sherlock, you're beyond gorgeous," John moaned softly, simply at the sight of him. He squeezed a bum cheek before releasing his hold on him. He bent to kiss a shoulder reassuringly, then he rolled over onto his back once more to fetch the lubricant. He slid up onto his knees as he turned back to face Sherlock.

Right. Steady now, John. Slow and steady. Don't worry or frighten him. He bent back down and placed more kisses to Sherlock's shoulder, working his way across his back. He nuzzled at the base of his hair and paused to kiss at his neck as well. He hummed low as he continued to kiss and soothe. His hands uncapped the lubricant. He was careful with the little bottle. There wasn't much but he would use all of it if need be to ensure Sherlock enjoyed this first time. John's heart hammered at the thought of many, many more times to come. They would need to stockpile the stuff, since he had little doubt Sherlock was going to keep him up all hours of every bloody night. He slicked his fingers and rolled the oil around, warming it up from being in the fridge. He continued his reassuring kisses to Sherlock's upper back as he moved to settle between his slightly spread legs. Sherlock parted them further for him. Oh hell what a sight he made beneath him. John nipped gently against the back of Sherlock's neck as he pressed his middle finger between Sherlock's cheeks once more. The slicked digit rubbed against his puckered hole. John purred over his shoulder, pressing his cheek to the side of Sherlock's head,  "Relax, love. Deep breaths. Yes. Good." He pressed a kiss to his hair as he gently pushed and that middle finger slid gingerly into Sherlock. "I have you. I'd never hurt you. You know it. Stay relaxed, love. Yes." He talked through the procedure, wanting in every way to calm Sherlock. He pushed past the first ring of resistance and managed to get two knuckles into the man beneath him. Oh Christ, he was tight. How were they ever... but he knew it could be done. He focused on Sherlock. His finger curled gently downward with a slow rocking motion. He returned to kissing Sherlock's shoulder as he managed the whole finger. He thrust in a gentle motion and rubbed around his walls, relaxing him in each direction. He knew precisely where his prostate ought to be but with only one finger he could barely brush over the nerves. He tried his best to caress against it as he stretched.

Sherlock was not expecting anything less from John, but the man’s tenderness and patience not only relaxed him through the next steps, but he felt completely safe under his care. He was touched by the way John spoke to him and encouraged him through the process, talking him through every step. That is why he was not surprised he hardly tensed when he felt the first finger push into him. Sherlock licked his lips and let his eyes fall closed, focusing on John’s words and kisses and caresses. The way he gently moved that finger once inside, clearly stretching him but also wanting Sherlock to feel pleasure from the touch, and in a way he did. It was hard to enjoy such a new sensation, but with every rub of John’s finger inside of him, Sherlock felt a nice tingle travel through his body and directly to his cock.

John's kisses trailed up along his neck again as he felt Sherlock stay remarkably relaxed around his finger as he stretched him out. It hit him squarely in the chest precisely how much Sherlock must truly trust him. But then, John trusted the man beneath him with everything. Everything. "You're doing so very well, love," he purred against his neck, continuing with kisses back up to Sherlock's ear. "Stay relaxed for me and enjoy as much as you're able, Sherlock. Deep breaths. I'm going to add another finger. I should hit your prostate better with two." He kissed behind his ear and nuzzled. He slid his finger out completely and added more lubrication to his middle and pointer finger. He rubbed a moment before gently pushing in with both. It was a tighter fit but Sherlock was already relaxed and methodically stretched by John's one finger. He paused a moment to allow Sherlock to adjust to the difference. "That's it, love." He rubbed and stretched. He worked down purposefully and managed to finally firmly get at Sherlock's prostate.

John’s continued encouragement and speaking through it all only made everything more wonderful. His sweet words and kisses could melt Sherlock completely. He remained still and relaxed as John warned he would be adding another finger, though the promise of hitting his prostate was something Sherlock looked forward to. It was a gentle move, but it was still a little worse than the first. He could feel himself actually starting to stretch out at the way John’s two fingers felt inside of him. There was more pressure though, not actual pain yet. Then suddenly all uncomfortable sensations vanished when a strong wave of pleasure washed through his body. He moaned at the incredible feeling, lifting a hand back over his own shoulder to slide into John’s hair, keeping him close as he kept on stretching and teasing. “ _Oh Christ, John, that feels good..._ ” Sherlock knew he still had stretching to do but that was indeed a very nice distraction.

Sherlock's deep, low moan at his firmly hitting his prostate went straight to John's cock. He groaned himself as Sherlock tugged at his hair. He nipped teasingly just behind Sherlock's ear as he continued to stretch the man out and rub over his prostate at the same time. "Feeling good already?" he teased in a breathless voice. Truly though he was very happy that he managed to at least make this bit feel good. He turned his head to press kisses to Sherlock's forearm as he clung to his hair and moaned beneath him. Bloody hell that low moan was magical. John worked methodically and purposefully around Sherlock's inner walls, stretching him while teasing him. He went on perhaps overly long with the two fingers. He scissored them gently and continued to stretch until he was very much certain he could add a third. "One more," he panted into Sherlock's ear, sliding his fingers out, only to gingerly push three into him. He made directly down for Sherlock's prostate, knowing even with his overcautious stretching, it was likely to feel at the very least uncomfortable to take all three fingers.

“ _Yes,_ ” Sherlock sighed. It really did feel good already, even if the stretching was a little uncomfortable, the way John pressed those two fingers to his prostate definitely was wonderful. He purred at John’s kisses, getting more and more used to the sensations as he remained there, repeating the moves, stretching him out and massaging his prostate at the same time. Sherlock’s toes curled and he tugged on John’s hair, already panting at the touch. He was actually sorry to feel him pull out those fingers, letting out a small whine in protest. He felt John add that third finger as he had warned him, and he had to hiss at the sensation. It was definitely a lot more intense, both the pressure of his walls stretching and the pleasure as the tips of John’s fingers went straight to rub his prostate again. He trembled, biting down on his lower lip as he tried to relax, his body starting to tense this time at the burning sensation of being stretched out more.

Every last reaction from Sherlock was heavenly. John was panting against his ear, eyes closed at the firm tugs to his own hair, and he licked at his lips at Sherlock's little whine. Oh fuck, did he want Sherlock. He bit at his own lower lip as he felt the squeeze of Sherlock's walls around his three fingers. It was tight. " _Sorry, love,_ " he soothed at Sherlock's hiss. "Deep breaths. Stay calm for me, love. That's it. It won't hurt long. Relax." He returned to kissing along Sherlock's neck in an attempt to soothe him as he stretched and worked those three fingers inside of Sherlock. He continued his methodical stretching, all the more firmly hitting Sherlock's prostate with short little thrusts of his fingers. " _Fuck you're so bloody tight, love._ " He had to get the man to relax again. He paused a moment to bury his fingers in fully and rubbed firmly over and over against Sherlock's prostate.

John’s own panting right into Sherlock’s ear was one of the sexiest sounds he had ever heard.  Even as he became distracted by the burning of John’s fingers stretching him, he was still so very turned on and wanting to feel more. The way his fingers rubbed firmly to his prostate soothed him quickly, though John’s whispers and soothing kisses relaxed him more than anything else could. He relaxed and the burning stopped, focusing on the amazing feeling of having his prostate massaged. “ _Oh god, darling..._ ” he gasped, the treatment to his prostate slowly becoming more and more intense. If it had not been for the small pauses and mostly the slight pain from the stretching, he probably would be ready to come. It was worth it though, and the long preparation was needed. John perfectly knew what he was doing, at least anatomically speaking. Sherlock hummed at John’s words, biting down on his lips again as the massage to his prostate was finally all pleasure. “ _I’m ready,_ ” he purred to John, wanting to feel more than just his fingers.

John gasped as Sherlock announced he was ready. He could feel him arching up against his massaging fingers and the heavy panting coming from the man beneath him. He was still tight around his fingers but he didn't truly know how loose he could get Sherlock. This was always going to be a tight fit. " _Are you certain?_ " John couldn't help requesting.

Sherlock smiled at John’s concerned question. That was always his John, never wanting to do anything that would harm Sherlock in any way. “I am,” he sighed and twisted enough to look at him, pulling him for a kiss to his lips, tender and reassuring. They had to do it sooner or later, and he was aching to feel John in every last way. He had never wanted that connection before with anyone, only with John. It had always been John.

John melted at the words and Sherlock's twisting to kiss his lips. He suddenly realised how much he'd missed having eye contact with Sherlock. He returned the kiss and deepened it a moment. He gently slid his fingers from Sherlock as the kiss ended. "Okay." He smiled adoringly at the man beneath him. "Onto your back. I want to see you." He waited as Sherlock rolled over, then reached for one of the plush pillows and stuffed it underneath Sherlock's hips and lower back. He couldn't help admiring how hard Sherlock was even with all the stretching. Perhaps he was ready. John bent to kiss him even as he reached for the box of condoms. He broke the kiss as he got one of the packaged condoms free of the box, which he tossed aside again. His gaze raked over Sherlock with unhidden adoration of his form as he ripped open the package and pulled out the rubber. He made quick work of rolling it on over himself. He added yet more lubricant over the rubber to make doubly certain he'd slide in as easily as possible. He bent once more for a kiss, settling on his right elbow, as he guided himself to Sherlock's stretched entrance. He had a moment wondering how the hell he ended up right here this very night. It was beyond the realm of his imagination the night before but he wanted nothing more tonight. He broke the kiss and soothed, resting his forehead to Sherlock's, "Stay relaxed. Breathe through it. Let me in, love." He pushed forward and felt resistance a moment, then he felt the head of his cock sink into him. John's own panting hitched into moans and his eyes fluttered closed. " _Oh my God_ ," he whined and shook as he stayed still.

Sherlock was very happy to see John again too. He smiled up at the doctor as he slid on the condom and slicked himself. He truly made a stunning sight. He watched John from his spot on the bed, comfortable with his hips resting higher up on the pillow. John definitely knew what he was doing, even if this was new to him too. He rested his legs over John’s thighs with the man kneeled between them, and cupped his face with both hands, sighing at their foreheads pressed together and John’s reassurances before he felt him push, slowly entering him. Sherlock gasped, his body tensing at the slight pain, though it was mostly a burning sensation, as if he were stretching way more than his body allowed him to. He gave a small whine, sliding his arms around John’s neck and trembling beneath him, letting the sensation fade into tolerable levels.

John panted heavily against Sherlock's lips as he struggled to keep his hips still. His heart ached to hear the little spike of pain in Sherlock's whimper. It was to be expected but he never wished to be the cause of it. He only gingerly pushed in further once he felt Sherlock's arms and legs loosen their holds around his thighs and neck. " _Oh Sher... Sherlock... Let me in, love. Relax. Yes. Oh Christ, you feel... you feel beyond incredible..._ " He whined himself as he twisted the bedding at both sides of Sherlock, attempting to keep his tenuous hold on his control. His jaw dropped open and hung there as he gently but smoothly pushed into Sherlock. The tight heat around his cock was overpowering. He groaned and trembled as he finally sunk fully into Sherlock to the hilt and felt his hips come to rest against the man's backside. Sherlock was clinging to him firmly again. John stayed put now that he was fully sheathed and allowed Sherlock to adjust to the sensation. " _So good... doing so good, love... let me see if I can find... find the right angle for you..._ " John panted out his words between low moans. He dipped his hips and rolled them, shifting his angle around experimentally, attempting to work out how best to hit Sherlock's prostate. If he could only find the right angle...

John’s moans, his sighs and breathlessness as he tried to form the right words to relax Sherlock, were incredibly sexy and endearing all at once. He trembled on top of him and Sherlock could feel it as he held him, tightening his hold on him as he pushed further in, slowly getting all the way inside, filling him completely. Sherlock tensed at that, clinging to John and only slowly letting himself relax a moment later. It was still... uncomfortable, to say the least. Yet at the same time it was magnificent to be doing this with John, making love with the one person in the world who mattered the most to him. He took a deep breath as John soothed him, doing his best to relax and wait for it all to feel better. He knew he would be sore in the morning but he tried to not focus only on that. As John started rolling his hips, Sherlock’s walls relaxed more and more around him, making the pain fade slowly. He gasped, tugging on John’s hair with one hand and digging his short nails into his far shoulder. “ _Oh John,_ ” he moaned, actual pleasure in his voice as the head of John’s cock finally seemed to have found the right angle.

John locked onto the angle as soon as he felt the firm tug to his hair. His own moans grew louder as Sherlock's voice shaded with pleasure instead of pain. The sensation of being wrapped up in his best friend and the one person he cared for was astounding enough but he desperately wanted this to be a positive experience for Sherlock. He'd worried a moment as he struggled to find his prostate again, but then Sherlock moaned his name against his lips. " _Yes, love._ " He kissed Sherlock hard and sloppy as he ground up against his prostate with firm rolls of his hips. He started to thrust. They were short and mostly simply firm drives up against Sherlock's prostate but it also stretched him out a bit more. Though it nearly unhinged John. He cried out and swore under his breath as he struggled to rein himself in. He desperately wanted hard and fast and rushing release. His lips formed nonsense half-words strung together, eyes firmly shut, shaking against Sherlock, as he focused his mind and body on keeping the slow pace. Steady, John. Make this last. Make this good for him. Fuck me, he's tight. He gave into slow but longer thrusts, pulling nearly out and driving back in at the proper angle, his moans dropping low and hoarse.

The pain slowly became replaced by pleasure. It was gradual but Sherlock could easily tell the difference and the sensations quickly shifted. Each thrust became better than the last as John kept moving, moaning and gasping, kissing him wet and sloppy as he kept the gentle pace. Sherlock hummed into the wet kisses, small whimpers of pleasure starting to escape his lips too. The thrusts continued their slow pace, but they became longer as John pulled out more and entered him back completely. “ _John,_ ” Sherlock moaned again, this time it was a moan of full pleasure, “ _Oh Christ!_ ” His toes curled as he tightened his legs around John, relaxing under him completely, which at the same time made him enjoy each thrust even more, the pleasure finally starting to build up as John hit his prostate each time.

Feeling Sherlock relax beneath him was one of the best sensations John had ever experienced in all his life. He could literally feel Sherlock slowly coming around to truly enjoying the entire coupling. His whimpers and sighs turned all the more heated until he gave that true passionate moan. His name. His bloody name moaned in wondrous pleasure from Sherlock as he thrust into him. Fuck. He opened his eyes to take in the sight of a flushed and moaning Sherlock beneath him, their foreheads still resting together, as John kept his deep, slow pace driving against his prostate. " _Sherlock_ ," he sighed adoringly down at the only man that ever mattered. Sherlock was wrapped around him. Sherlock was pressed beneath him. Sherlock was moaning for him. Sherlock was his. His and only his to see like this. He thrust in deep and stayed there, rolling his hips and grinding against Sherlock. He kissed him, loving and tender, before he sighed against his lips, " _Tell me how it feels, love._ "

Sherlock loved to hear John sigh his name like that. It was something he would always be looking forward to from now on. He loved to hear the man say his name, but hearing it moaned had just become one of his favourite ways of hearing it. John kept the gentle pace even as Sherlock adjusted to him completely. He hummed against his lips, stealing more and more kisses. He slowly opened his eyes, or at least attempted to do so at John’s question. He gasped, having to close them again at the next thrust, each rub of John’s cock to his prostate sending the most intense waves of pleasure through him. “ _It  feels--_ ” he sighed, trailing off and tugging firmly on John’s hair as he kept moving inside of him, “ _It feels incredible. Hot. So intense--_ ” he could hardly speak, stopping to catch his breath, only to moan again, arching his back off the bed.

The look that passed over Sherlock's features as he couldn't even keep his eyes open was bloody marvellous. He was a moaning, gasping mess because of _John_. He managed to attempt to answer the question. His halting description was rather perfect. He broke off to moan and John kissed him again. It was all the answer he truly needed to hear. John reached with his left hand, keeping his weight on his right elbow, and took Sherlock's hand in his own, threading their fingers and pinning the hand beside his messy curls on the pillow. He returned to thrusting, giving in to a faster, harder pace. He drove up against Sherlock's prostate. The bed began to squeak in protest. He groaned into the sloppy kisses.

The way John moved sent wave after wave of pleasure through Sherlock. Each thrust felt just the way it did whenever he had a wank and was just about to climax. He almost felt the need to stroke himself to finally come, but he was aware that the sensation was simply the pleasure from each rub to his prostate. He'd known the prostate was the spot that drove men crazy, but only now did he finally figure out exactly why. He didn’t have to touch himself to enjoy the pleasure John was giving him. He sighed as John reached for his hand and pinned it to the bed. He squeezed it firmly in return, clinging to it like he had to John’s shoulder, moaning with each thrust as the pleasure only became more and more intense. “ _John,_ ” he moaned against his lips, growling into the hungry, sloppy kiss. Their lips smacking and their breaths mingling as they moaned into each other’s mouths. “ _Oh my god,_ ” he cried, almost certain he wouldn’t last much longer.

" _Sherlock_ ," John groaned with a needy whine against his lips, his own eyes falling closed once more. The low rumbling growl from Sherlock was bloody gorgeous. The man was pure sex and charisma beneath him as he moaned and cried out in that deep, guttural voice of his that was always so controlled, until tonight. John's own control finally fell away and he gave in to the driving thrusts he'd been aching for all along. He grunted firmly with each thrust, repeating Sherlock's name over and over, as his pace hitched into rough and rapid thrusts. The headboard joined the bed in complaining about their rough pace, banging against the wall in a light thudding to counterpoint John's groans and Sherlock's cries. He clung to the edge for ages, so hard and so close, driving mercilessly against Sherlock's prostate.

And then he felt, and heard, and sensed Sherlock's climax. The man stiffened and arched. He shouted his name to the whole bloody hotel. He squeezed around his cock tighter than anything else imaginable. John nearly joined him simultaneously, unable to hold back with the tight, hot squeezing walls around his length. His mouth hung open against Sherlock's as he shouted the man's name himself, hips jerking and whole body shuddering. It was like nothing else. Nothing else compared to Sherlock. Nothing. He pulsed inside of Sherlock's tight squeeze and sadly filled the condom instead of the man. Fuck, they were getting tested as soon as they returned to London, to be done with the damned things. He continued to thrust as waves of pleasure washed over him, whimpering loudly, dragging out both their climaxes. His hips eventually jerked to a stop and he slumped down atop Sherlock, the both of them a proper shaking mess.

The way John pulsed inside of him drove Sherlock crazy. It was quite a unique feeling he never really considered. All of it felt incredible, such an intense pleasure, one that he knew he could have only ever felt with John and he was glad they were here now. That their relationship had evolved to the next level as it was always meant to. “ _Oh Captain Watson,_ ” Sherlock purred with a small grin as the two of them came down, sliding a hand up into John’s hair and squeezing his hand still in the other. He worked on slowly catching his breath, but he was still a panting mess beneath John, relaxing his legs from around him as he turned into a puddle.

Sherlock could not have sighed something more adorable and heart-stopping if he'd tried. The purr of his title sent a noticeable shiver through John even as he turned to mush atop the man. "You sighed that on purpose," John accused against Sherlock's lips, nipping at his lower one. The little teasing bastard. He rolled his hips in a tease of his own, even as they both went soft. Then he growled in a possessive rumble, "And you be careful where you call me _Captain_ , detective." His thoughts drifted to dragging Sherlock off into broom closets, no matter their current location or inappropriate setting, if the man dared to flash his title about in conversation. He'd never be able to resist Sherlock at all with such a tease. He managed to get his limp limbs to move well enough to roll them onto their sides. He slid out of Sherlock with a grunt but he supposed he did need to get the condom off before he went too soft and potentially slid off on its own. He stole a kiss from Sherlock as he tugged the rubber off and tied the end, tossing it in the general direction of the nearby bin. Then his arms wrapped back around Sherlock, stealing more kisses.

Sherlock chuckled at John’s accusation, but instantly batted his eyelashes in a quick, coy gesture. Of course he had sighed that on purpose, and he quite loved John’s reaction to it. He would have to make certain he said it more often, despite John’s threat. Or because of it. He grunted at the change in position and John’s warmth sliding out of him. He kept his limbs around him though, and he watched his every movement until John’s attention was back on him. He hummed into the kisses, returning each kiss with a wet smack, letting them linger on and on before ending the last with a long sigh. He brushed his nose to John’s cute round one, meeting his gaze as they stayed pressed together on their sides. He smiled at him, one of those smiles that were only ever reserved for John. “I’m glad you picked such a shit car,” he whispered to John’s lips.

John snorted a laugh at Sherlock's immediate pillow talk conversation starter. How the hell was he not surprised? He met Sherlock's smile with a wide one of his own, humming at the brush of their noses. "It appeared perfectly sound at the time," he teased in return. "But I'm glad as well." He stole a wet peck of their lips, his voice turning more serious, "Who knew one broken down car would lead to all this... but I suppose I was waiting on any little push." He kept one arm wrapped around Sherlock and moved the other hand up to brush through Sherlock's messy curls. "I still don't know how I deserve to be the only soul to catch your attention, Sherlock..."

Sherlock nodded. It was always the smallest of details that forever changed the big picture. A broken down car leading to them finally taking the leap from friends to more was the perfect example, and would forever be his favourite one too. He sighed at John’s hand in his hair, taking in those dark blue eyes he often enjoyed studying, though this was the first time he could admire them at such a short distance. “It’s always been you,” Sherlock admitted with a shrug, “that’s how it was meant to be.” He didn’t really believe in fate, not really, but from the very first moment he set eyes on John he knew that somehow, even if he didn’t know yet how, they were meant to be together. Even after losing hope of John ever seeing him in the way Sherlock did, he knew John would be the most important person in his life always.

The flicker of emotion and sentiment in Sherlock's gaze said more than even his soft, simple words. John's heart skipped at both reactions speaking volumes in reply. He took in those indescribable eyes fixed on his own. The brilliant man was taking in his every sigh and flash of meaning on his features, and John did his best to convey what he truly felt. "And I thought I would be the silly romantic in all this," he teased lightly. His own eyes flashing with emotions as he went on gently, "And I always knew... I always knew you were important, Sherlock. I knew that whatever happened in my life... that you brought meaning back to my life. You soothed my mind and my body simply by being who you are, simply by brushing your being against mine. You called me a conductor of light once, love. I think it works both ways. I..." He struggled with his words, to pull the right ones together, to be open with Sherlock while being clear. "You bring me to life, Sherlock. You pull the best out of me. You make me cherish every day. You. Always you. From the first moment we met. I just..." He sighed, not certain how to frame his feelings, both old and new. "I knew you'd be in my life forever. I knew I wanted you close always. It simply took awhile for me to figure out just _how deeply_ I would fall for you."

Sherlock cocked an amused smiled at John indirectly calling him a silly romantic. Was he really? Could he be a romantic at all? That was the last thing he ever imagined he would ever be, it was just not in him, yet John brought out every single facet of him he didn’t even know existed. He lost himself in John’s blue eyes as he spoke, his smile growing wider with each word. “I think from the moment we met I’ve been falling for you, John. Just as deeply. It was merely something I never let myself act upon. Emotion has always been a useless distraction, something I have been able to avoid easily... but not with you,” he sighed. All those times when John had been in danger were the hardest for Sherlock. His mind had never panicked as much as it did those few times when he couldn’t protect John from harm, from heartbreak, or even from finding a lovely woman he would fall for, eventually forgetting all about Sherlock himself.

The flash of yet more emotions in Sherlock's gaze was astounding. John cherished his ability to be open, to allow himself to _feel_ anything during this bought of pillow talk. He knew it likely did not come easily or naturally to the man curled up against him. He brushed fingers through his hair again, reassuringly teasing fingertips gently along his scalp. His heart skipped at the very first line, listening intently to the rest. He could nearly see the memories flash before Sherlock's eyes as he drifted off, worrying over John's hurt and heartache. "You have all of me, Sherlock," he promised firmly. "There is not an atom in my body that would not keep you safe. There is not a corner of my being that doesn't thrill to have you in my arms tonight, that doesn't dream of having you in my arms every night, always and forever. I'll never cease to be amazed to be the man who would steal your attention... and your heart." His hand slid down from Sherlock's hair to brush fingers along his neck and come to settle over his chest and above his heart. "I know what a gift it is, love. I do. I will cherish it. Always." He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's nose soothe over his overt romanticism, unable to help it. "I'm just as intertwined with you, Sherlock. Our paths crossed for a reason. I want to keep you by my side forever." He stole a peck and teased, offering Sherlock a less bluntly emotional way out of the conversation, into something lighter. "I want to grow old and _more_ grey and still have my annoying git leaping about with his violin spouting off about his mould collection."

Feeling strong emotions was never easy for Sherlock, but speaking them aloud to somebody was impossible as far as he was concerned. Until John came along. Their admitting to have fallen for each other was something he never could have imagined saying to anyone, no matter what crazy circumstances he could create in his mind for it. Yet they had just done that, and it was beautiful. It made Sherlock’s heart beat too fast and created a tingly sensation in his stomach, quite similar to the way John’s smile and kisses made him feel, only a thousand times more intense. John’s words and promises just now were doing the same to his body, and it positively made him giddy. It made him smile wide and he couldn’t quite stop. Sherlock sighed at his words and slid his hand down to cover John’s hand over his chest, wanting to keep him there. Then he rolled his eyes and chuckled at John, “I’m hardly annoying and you could barely live without the sound of my violin.” He teased him in return and pecked his lips again, keeping his gaze. “Mrs. Hudson will probably be glad this finally happened,” he teased but it was true. “No need to rent the room upstairs anymore.”

He could read Sherlock's eyes and he knew in his core that the man reciprocated every word and promise. There was not a soul that John trusted more than Sherlock. Even if he had a hard time forming the words, it was more than enough for John. Very much more than enough. His heart skipped at Sherlock's hand over his own. He gaze dropped a moment to etch into his mind the sight of his hand over Sherlock's chest, and Sherlock's hand over his own. He chuckled as Sherlock took the chance to tease in return. He met the man's eyes again in time to see him roll them in exasperation at John. Then he casually slipped in the comment on their sleeping arrangements. It was a beautifully multifaceted comment, saying far more than the surface statement. Sherlock wanted him in the flat, wanted him in his bed. Immediately and without fussing about taking their time. John supposed they'd taken enough time getting to this point. "No. No there isn't. I'll move my things down soon as we're back. Tomorrow." John brushed his thumb against Sherlock's chest. Once more he turned the conversation toward something lighter, teasing, "Though I hope she doesn't then plan on renting that room out to someone new."

Sherlock smiled at John easily taking on the new arrangements for them to just fully share the flat instead of having John sleep upstairs and only hang out down with him. He made a face at the idea of anyone renting the room upstairs, taking John’s tease more seriously than it was meant to be. “I would hope not,” he scrunched up his nose. “I don’t believe I’d like to deal with another inferior minded individual.” He sighed and slid his arms around John, holding him closer, squeezing him in his arms and resting their foreheads together. “We could continue to rent it as well,” he offered, “even if we don’t use it now. Maybe we will find some use for it later.”

Of course Sherlock would take the comment seriously. The face he pulled was incredibly adorable as he sneered at the idea of someone else dashing up and down their stairs. Still John didn't miss the opportunity to clear his throat and tease in a put upon tone, "Yes, you've got me and Mrs. Hudson to deal with. It wouldn't do to have more small minds cluttering the flat." John kept his hand over Sherlock's chest as the man wrapped his own around him and held him close. John sighed. He'd never felt so happy and content in all his life. The edges of exhaustion and delirious sex coma tugged at his mind toward sleep, but then his eyes refocused on Sherlock as the man continued. His heart skipped and his eyes widened only just, but it was enough for someone like Sherlock to notice. Was he... was Sherlock actually alluding to... No, that would be rather ridiculous. He had to mean turning the room into a study or a proper entertainment room with a flashy new telly. He didn't mean... what it sounded like, surely. John pushed aside his own gut reactions to such ideas, whether Sherlock meant them or not, and focused on hedging his bets, answering him in a way that worked with either interpretation, "I'm sure one day we could come up with something to do with the room. We could keep it. Mrs. Hudson deserves the extra pay for putting up with you."

Sherlock simply nodded idly at John’s comment, lost in the feeling of just holding him. The two of them naked in each other’s arms. John’s reaction to his comment regarding the spare room upstairs was unexpected yet so very endearing. A knowing grin tugged at the corner of his mouth at John’s wide eyes and pause before suggesting it was the least they could do for Mrs. Hudson. “Quite,” he nodded, agreeing with the idea but not elaborating. Clearly John knew what he was talking about and that made it all the more harder to not smile at him. He pecked the man’s lips, quieting the two of them for now. They had so many new adventures to take on together. Life was pulling them in a whole new and exciting direction. They always had and always would be able to take on anything, together.

The hint of long term plans that may or may not be bubbling around in Sherlock's mind was exhilarating. Sherlock must have seen John's reaction, however minor, and he declined to comment on or correct the reaction. If nothing else, Sherlock did not _object_ to how John had first interpreted his words, and that alone was more support on the idea than John had ever imagined coming from Sherlock. Not that... well it was all still quite new, John hadn't thought so far forward, but it held an appeal, far more appeal than he ever would have imagined. Sherlock would look something brilliant in a nursery... a blue nursery. John sighed and let the mental image fade, closing his eyes. One bloody step at a time. It wouldn't do to overwhelm either one of them with all the details at once. He returned Sherlock's quick kisses and took the hint at allowing the pillow talk to dissipate. They'd discussed much already. He moved his arms to wrap around Sherlock in return, ignoring the fact that they were still lying atop the sheets. He knew it was unlikely Sherlock would fall asleep but his own body was caving to the idea. He muttered softly to Sherlock against his lips, "Grant me a small recovery nap, love. Please. I promise to shag you senseless in a few hours." He hummed with a grin and tightened his arms around Sherlock.

He remained quiet. He had figured out John’s curious face instantly but he still did not say a word on the matter. It was something they would have to discuss later, but he did love the reaction from his partner. He clearly did not mind the idea at all. Only a couple of minutes later John’s exhaustion became more evident and Sherlock smiled when John curled up to him some more, wrapping his arms around him and promising a good shag in a few hours. Sherlock chuckled and nodded, reaching to the nearest end of the bed and pulling the blankets up over themselves, covering up from the cold, the two of them remaining in the same position as he covered them with what he could grab of the blanket. “Alright,” Sherlock agreed with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to John’s forehead and tightening his arms around him. “Sweet dreams, my dearest John,” he sighed and let his own eyes fall closed. Maybe he could try to regain some of his energy too.

John sighed as he felt the velvet duvet cover over them and Sherlock return to holding him beneath the blanket. He released a dreamy sigh at Sherlock's goodnight, already half drowsing in the man's arms. He muttered softly in return, "Sherlock... _my_ Sherlock..." The words faded and John didn't finish his own goodnight but the meaning was still clear. He slept. He slept with his arms wrapped around Sherlock. The both of them drifting together into sleep.

* * *

It was a marvel to wake and find Sherlock asleep beside him. John spent the better part of an hour simply studying the sleeping detective before he finally woke him. The dead of the night tackling likely made them no friends with anyone else on their floor. They ordered a very late midnight snack, or perhaps an early breakfast, and John made a point to 'accidentally' spill a bit of his pancake syrup on Sherlock's chest as the man sipped his tea in bed beside him. It made for a good enough excuse to be done with the meal, and have a bit more of Sherlock instead. Afterwards, John slept more while Sherlock returned to his Angry Birds game beside him in bed.

It took some doing to get showered and dressed later that morning. Thankfully the hotel's fantastically posh glass shower had some rather suspiciously conveniently placed handholds. They only just made it by taxi to the airport in time to get through their check-in and onto the plane. Sherlock's hands were always on John, and neither seemed to care to notice. They were always touching in one way or another, most usually holding threaded hands. No one around them noticed. The flight was a quick hop to London. Sherlock pressed his side and thigh up against John as he used both hands to continue his quest against the maniacal pigs. John finally checked his own email on his laptop and responded to a few from Lestrade and Harry.

As soon as they landed and flagged down a cab, they went immediately to a corner store. John cleared his throat while Sherlock ignored the cashier's sideways glance at the lubricant, condoms, and milk purchased by the pair.

Mrs. Hudson did indeed figure them out instantly, and a covert look at their shopping only solidified her findings. She immediately announced plans to see her sister the next day. John put on a show of hemming and hawing that they'd only just returned and she was off to leave them. Sherlock snorted at the attempt to sound displeased by Mrs. Hudson going away for a number of days, and he finally broke John's carryings on by announcing he was grateful Mrs. Hudson would allow them time alone to break in the springs on Sherlock's bed. John turned a fantastic shade of pink.

Lestrade made the unfortunate mistake of dropping by the next day. With the entirety of the place to themselves, Sherlock and John had spent the morning enjoying their solitude. Later on John would be grateful Greg had not walked in while they had been shagging in the kitchen, half made tea forgotten in favour of bending Sherlock over the table, but as it was John would not be able to meet the man's eyes for some time to come after he walked in on them sated and spooning on the sofa. Utterly naked. They hadn't dressed all day. What was the point? Sherlock would later ask Lestrade his opinion on John's backside, merely to see just how pink John could become in public.

It became something of a game for Sherlock to see what would set John off blushing, which at first was rather ridiculously easy to do. As John became accustomed to the outbursts and their friends and associates all learned of their shift in relationship, Sherlock had to then shift the focus of the game. It morphed into subtly and not so subtly slipping a 'sir' or 'Captain' into conversations and watching John attempt to control himself, which was generally a losing battle, no matter the location or current company. It led to the discovery that John quite liked dirty and submissive talk in bed, or well at least when triggered into tackling Sherlock with the little game. John soon found his revenge, however, when he discovered Sherlock turned his own shade of pink whenever John squeezed his bum in public. Little matched the deep blush on Sherlock's features when he did it in front of Donovan and Anderson for the first time. John had simply cast the pair a smug look.

Life continued on as usual. Cases were solved. Criminals were chased. Mysteries were unravelled. Sherlock continued on with his research and John with his blog. The papers and press found out ages later and it didn't even seem to be much of a thing, as most already assumed they were shagging to begin with. John only mildly grumbled at the assumptions, until Sherlock reminded him that they were in fact rather correct in the end. They shared dinners. They shared showers. They shared their bed. There was hardly a moment one was not within eyesight of the other, if not side by side. There were rows. There were disagreements. There was one long evening spent with both annoyed and ignoring the other. John with his nose buried in his laptop and Sherlock incessantly playing his violin. John was the first to snap and force them to interact again. The makeup sex after fixing the issue was remarkable. It almost made the irritating day worth it.

Threats came and went. One twist in their life left them running into hiding together not overly long after their trip to Norway. They weathered the storm. They had each other to lean on. Once finally back at 221B Baker Street one matter was officially settled. They would paint John's old room a light baby blue.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

>  _Kipli's Note_ : Thank you to Vanillabuzz for a wonderful Sherlock. You are always and forever wonderful to write with, and I'm pleased to be able to share this with the world at large. I hope everyone enjoys our first attempt, and the wordy boys we apparently own. Sigh.
> 
>  _Domino (Vanillabuzz)'s Note_ : In turn I would like to thank Kipli for keeping me on my toes with her wonderful John. It's always incredible to be able to write with my favorite fanfic author. This was a lovely experience that we hadn't had in a couple of years. Hopefully we'll put something together again in the future. :-*


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